Maybe
by curiouscharlie
Summary: Kurt transfers back to McKinley, but was it the right choice?  Rated M for language, drug use, self-mutilation/harm, suicidal thoughts, and a possible future intense recap/memory. Trigger warning.
1. Chapter 1

Kurt's POV:

"Why don't you want me to come back to McKinley with you?" Blaine asked me, frowning slightly. My stomach clenched. Of course I wanted him to come back with me. But Blaine wasn't as... steely as I was. And with Karofsky and Azimio still there, I couldn't let Blaine go back; couldn't let them have their way with Blaine like I'd let them with me. I was afraid Blaine wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Kurt?" He prompted, nudging me out of my thoughts. His eyes were so... full.

"Listen, Blaine, it isn't that I don't want you to come back with me. It's just... I'm worried that you won't fit in with the New Directions. You love the Warblers; Why throw this all away just to come with me?" ...Maybe I was lying.

"Oh, Kurt, is that really all? So what if I don't get along immediately in New Directions? You took time to adjust here. I figure it can be the same with me. And I wouldn't be 'throwing this away': I've done my time as a Warbler, I think. Besides, I want to be with you. You're my best friend, right?" He nudged me again and smiled before walking off to his next class.

"Right," I mumbled under my breath, "friends..."

* * *

There wasn't an exact moment when I decided I was going back to McKinley. It was more of a buildup. Not that I didn't like Dalton; I loved it. It was a safe-haven when I really couldn't handle Karofsky any longer. The classes were more than challenging (not that I needed to be challenged; I was more intelligent than anyone I knew). And the Warblers... well, that was different. Sure, I wanted solos- who didn't? The dynamics the Warblers had though, they were something way different from New Directions.

But then there was Blaine.

And watching Blaine watching other guys, hearing him talk about them, seeing him get excited about going on dates with someone else... That hurt more than anything I encountered in Lima.

...So I was going back.

And yes, I was going to miss Blaine and the Warblers. I was going to miss Dalton and its cavernous halls, the ones that had given me a break from the tormenting. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was completely bruise-free. On the outside, at least.

I carefully placed my bag holding the bulk of my skin care products in my suitcase and glanced around my dorm one last time. I was going to miss it, but I was ready to go home.

* * *

The door closed quietly behind me as I left into the hall, leaving Dalton, returning home.

I ignored three calls and nine text messages from Blaine on the drive home. So maybe I hadn't exactly told him when I was leaving. Maybe I hadn't wanted to deal with saying goodbye to yet another important person in my life. And maybe I had thought that if I maybe didn't tell him when I was leaving, then maybe he would miss me. Maybe he'd spend hours fixing his clothes and hair so he could try and maybe impress me. Maybe he'd lie awake at night and wonder why no one loved him and the only boy he'd kissed was the same one who pushed him against the lockers and made him leave his friends and family and school and... and...

Choking back a sob, I pulled my car over to the shoulder of the highway. What I really wanted was for someone to feel how I felt- to fully understand. Because yeah, it happened months ago, but it was always on my mind. I woke up and thought about it. I sat in class and thought about it. Any time I wasn't laden with work, I thought about it. No, I didn't show it on the outside, that wouldn't do anyone any good. But no matter how much I thought about what had happened, no one else did anymore. Kind of like they forgot. And it hurt so much.

My phone started ringing once again, and I knew it was Blaine before looking at the screen. Taking a deep breath and wiping one of those damn spare tears from my face, I answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Kurt! I've been trying to get a hold of you for the past hour! Where are you? Are you okay?" I took another deep breath to steady myself and slouched in the seat of my car. Was he really worried? Really?

"I'm fine," I lied.

"Where are you? Are you sure you're okay?" He sounded so worried, but the more I tried to care, the less I actually did.

"Yes, I'm fine!" I just wanted to go home.

"... Tell me you didn't leave already."

Silence.

"Kurt... I wanted to say goodbye, at least. I still want to come with you! …Why did you leave?" The way he was speaking upset me more than I thought it would. My fingers ached from how hard I was clenching my phone and seatbelt.

"I know you wanted to come, alright?" I paused for a moment to let myself think. I didn't want to hurt anyone else, more than I already had, at least. And I really didn't want Blaine to get hurt. So- "I didn't want you to come with me. I just want to try and do something for myself for once. And... I think you'd get in the way of that. So just stay at Dalton. Listen, I have to go, I'm driving." I heard a broken "Kurt-" sound from the other end before I snapped my phone shut and turned it off entirely.

As I merged back into the heavy flow of traffic, I thought about what the fuck I had just done.

"Good one, Hummel," I murmured to myself. It was starting to look like fucking up was what I was best at.

* * *

Things were a bit different when I started settling back into my home life. While I was gone, my dad, Carole, and Finn had concocted a weird sort of routine that, apparently, I now had to adjust myself to.

After unpacking my bags from Dalton, I changed into my pajamas and face-planted on my bed. Skin could wait. Covering up could wait. All that mattered now was that I was home and alone in my room, on my bed, and it was quiet. And I hadn't had that in a long time.

"...Kurt?" With bleary eyes I turned around on my mattress to see Finn hesitating in the doorway.

"Mmhmm?" I kind of flopped around on my mattress for a minute in an attempt to get up, but of course I failed terribly. Instead, I settled for looking up at Finn with half lidded eyes and waited for him to tell me why in the world he would interrupt my terribly important sleep.

He walked a few feet into my room and closed the door behind him. "You really back, man?" He asked, creeping towards my bed.

Sighing, I pushed myself slowly into a sitting position. "Yeah, I'm back."

Finn's face broke into his signature goofy grin, and the wind was knocked from my chest before I registered that he was on top of me. The bed creaked as he rolled me back and forth across my bed, caught in a monster bear hug, happy cackles erupting from his body. I was extremely happy my door was closed, because this was quite possibly the gayest thing I'd ever partaken in, including the number the Warblers and I did at the gap.

_The Warblers._

My throat clenched tightly; the memories were flooding back at an alarming pace. All the performances, the blue blazers, Jeff and his antics, the togetherness, Blaine-

"You okay, man?" Finn pulled off me, releasing me from his ten minute welcoming hug of death, eying me with puppyish concern. I guess I had stiffened in my pajamas or something.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Finn, shut up, yes I am." We challenged each other with contrasting looks; his one of concern and mine of blank, false cluelessness. I won.

"Well good, 'cause I made you some warm milk!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer(since i figured i should add one): No, sadly, I don't own Glee. =/

* * *

"Hey Kurt,"

What was that? Was it Finn again? Oh god, I just wanted him to leave me alone. "No more... too tired... warm mi-"

"_Kurt?_" Nope, that was DEFINITELY my dad. My dreams slipped away quickly as he shuffled around my room, trying to wake me up. "Kurt, wake up. We were supposed to make breakfast but I figured I'd let you sleep but it's lunchtime now and Carole has banned me from using the oven without supervision, and her and Finn are both gone and I'm _really_ hungry-"

"I'm up, I'm up. What time is it and what are we making?"

* * *

Later, (I needed to catch up with my skin care regimen) in the kitchen, I attempted to help my dad make a soup he'd chosen from his trusty cookbook.

It was terrible, maybe the worst thing I had ever tasted, but we both pretended like it was just the opposite. Between painful bites of soup, I eyed my father from across the table. My stomach clenched nervously when I opened my mouth to speak.

"... I'm sorry." I muttered, eyelids fluttering. I didn't know what to say, really.

"Now what exactly would you be sorry for?" He placed his spoon in his bowl and stared at me straight on.

"For transferring back." I guess that's what I meant. _For ruining your chances at having a honeymoon with your wife, for making you transfer me in the first place, for getting in the way._

"Kurt, it's not a problem. I understand. Besides, I talked to the... president? Dean? Headmaster? I don't know, I talked to someone and they're giving us a half refund because of the circumstances. I just want to make sure you're happy wherever you are, Kurt." He smiled at me, patting me on the shoulder before starting the long process of cleaning up after himself. How could he take this all so easily?

"But your honeymoon..."

"Carole and I are planning a smaller one. Hopefully you and Finn'll be able to handle yourselves for a week or so? No burning the house down?" Banging pots and pans drowned out his laughter.

"We'll handle ourselves." _Sorry I'm so flamboyant. _

"Good. No weird satanic ritual things in the basement?"

"Dad, you know we only hold those in the backyard." _Sorry I'm not jock, that I get beat up instead of the other way around._

"And those uh, human sacrifices?"

"Only on Wednesdays dad, get it right." _Sorry I can't bring home a pretty girlfriend to show to you and the rest of our family._

"Okay kiddo. Well, I gotta get over to the shop but uh, you just get settled in, alright? Gotta be all rested up for Monday." He winked at me from the doorway.

"Okay dad." _Sorry I'm gay._

* * *

Dad couldn't have been more correct about Monday.

After waking up early to get a head start on my shower and skin, I discovered that while Carole _had_ been doing the laundry, it was kind of hard to wash towels if they were all splayed across Finn's floor. I had to settle with one of the ones I'd brought to Dalton, which started a whole other whirlwind of problems. Halfway through my shower, Finn barged in claiming, "I HAVE TO PISS RIGHT NOW KURT OH GOD!" leading to an awesomely awkward situation in which both of us had our dicks out in the same room. Apparently he didn't realize it or his gaydar was malfunctioning severely- I didn't know. I just needed to finish my shower because I was going to run out of time, and running out of time meant I maybe wouldn't have the chance to accessorize fully.

Another crisis came after discovering that someone had inadvertently rearranged all of my products, making it nearly impossible to find what I was looking for in a timely manner. I was just finishing my hair when Finn burst in again, in only boxers, looking frantic.

"Really Finn? Good thing I'm done in here." I spritzed hairspray over my head once more, some of the extra particles landing on my bare chest and shoulders. Finn whined and clenched only god knows what part of his lower half, indicating that it was time for me to leave the bathroom, and maybe fumigate it later. Ugh.

The hardest part of getting ready was deciding what the fuck I was going to wear. After months at Dalton I'd become quite accustomed to the blue blazer/khaki pants combo, and now there were just _so _many options. I wasn't sure if I should start off with my most fabulous outfit, or slowly work up to it, or maybe I could just continue wearing my Dalton uniform to school...

By the time all was said and done, I was running late and speeding slightly to try and make up for it. I maneuvered my baby into the tightest of parking spaces, skipping through the doors just as the bell rang.

Aaah, Mckinley. With its overbearing stench of sweat and slushee's, cornea burning fluorescents, and slight overpopulation, I felt right at home. My shoes squeaked slightly on the waxed floor as I crept down each hall, relishing the memories. I was also trying to get to the choir room without running into Karofsky.

This was the moment I had waited all weekend for. After the Finn-bear hug fiasco, I made him promise me not to tell anyone I was back in New Directions. I wanted the homecoming to go a specific way. After all, theater was my stronghold.

Dodging a few straggling students, I took in one last breath and entered the choir room.

Oh, family. It was exactly as I remembered, save for a few wardrobe changes. I made my way to my old seat, passing Finn and returning his, "Hey Kurt," with a, "Hey yourself." The chair still felt the same. Everyone sounded like they used to, and the red on my shirt seemed to shine more loudly than it used to.

It was seriously taking them a long time to realize I was sitting here. I figured it might take a minute or two, but we were going on three minutes and this just was not working for me. traipsed in -vest addiction still to the extreme, I observed- and started explaining this week's assignment.

"... So, this week I want you all to pick a song that we've done before and make it your own. No duets, just solos this week and- _Kurt_?" His mouth (which, frighteningly enough resembled a vagina, not that I had any particular interest in those) popped open and in three large bounds, I was wrapped in an embrace I wasn't too sure was entirely appropriate for a teacher. Fast forward a few seconds and I was enveloped in a large New Directions hug, Rachel and Mercedes suffocating me with their hair and hands and Brittany crying all over me because she thought I died.

Not quite.

* * *

Overall, it was nice to be back with the New Directions. Things were so hectic that I barely had time to do anything but move move move, until I was back in my car and driving home. I hadn't seen anyone from the football team all day and I hadn't been slushied- my two main goals for the day.

Since it was still early, I turned my car to head up to the Lima Bean to get some coffee. And then I realized Blaine might be there. After much contemplation I ended up just stopping at Starbucks for crappy coffee and once again I was out of things to do.

Who knew coming back to Lima would be so uneventful?

I considered my light amount of homework as I drove aimlessly around Lima. I wasn't completely sure if it was because I just came back, or if I had just become used to the mountainous piles of ridiculousness Dalton liked to call homework, but I was finding school kind of underwhelming at the moment. Not that I was complaining- less homework gave me more time to do things more fabulous and less handcramping.

I was halfway to the mall before I realized I was really halfway to Dalton. In my haste to get the fuck away from there I pulled through one of those emergency vehicle spots in the median. I wasn't too worried about getting caught but oh GOD was that a cop- nope, I was fine and going in the right direction this time.

* * *

The mall was less entertaining than I remembered it being. I made my way through the shops in an almost robotic manner- I have _that_, _that's_ the most ugly thing I have _ever_ seen, fuck my life why is she wearing _that_? Before settling for looking for accessories that I most likely didn't exactly need, but who NEEDS anything other than the necessities anyway?

Maybe my head wasn't where it was supposed to be. Maybe it was just the fact that I wasn't used to wearing normal clothes again. But I'm really glad I noticed everything I was choosing matched my Dalton uniform perfectly before I got to the register. Instead of subjecting myself to any more of this stupid shopping (there wasn't anything good at this mall anyway- I'd have to look up other places to shop when I got home.) I settled for perching on a chair in the middle of the hall. People watching was a fun thing to do any day of the week.

* * *

_I was back at Dalton. The Warblers and I were singing, and my solo was coming up. Blaine turned at me to show that it was my turn to sing; I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. In a panic, my hands fluttered up to my face, skittering around my mouth and throat. I tried again- still no sound. Slowly the Warblers stopped singing and wandered off, paying no attention to my pleads. To them it might not seem like such a big voice, but how was I supposed to tell Blaine if I couldn't make any noise?_

_ He turned to me, "Kurt?"_

_ I tried to ask him. I really did. But I couldn't... I just nodded. _

_ "Kurt." I nodded again, trying to tell him. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I say anything?_

_ "Hey Kurt?" … What was I trying to say again? If he would just stop calling my name, I could concentrate enough to just tell him and everything would be okay again and what was Pav doing there in his cage? I looked down and saw that my feet were shoeless and instead of my Dalton uniform I was wearing the same thing I wore when Tina, Brittany and I did 'Single Ladies' and Blaine was Prince Eric and-_

"Kurt!" and OHMYGOD someone was on top of me, shaking me.

"Oww, what the heck?" I opened my eyes to see Sam holding his face and squinting in pain. Had I been sleeping? Really? Who falls asleep in the mall? On this chair? I thought I was people watching and _ewww_ was that drool on my sleeve? Oh god it was so gross.

"Sam, what are you doing?" I was still groggy from my mid-evening nap, I suppose; this conversation, no matter how short it was, was proving to be quite difficult.

"Well, right now I'm trying to figure out if you just gave me a black eye or what," I looked down; My hands were indeed clenched tightly into fists. Maybe I needed to relax a bit, "and before that, I was shopping for Quinn, when I found you sleeping there. So I though, 'Hey, I should wake Kurt up, that's weird!' but obviously I was wrong, because you punched me. In the face." I could tell by his tone that he was only half serious, but I still felt kind of hurt that he said my sleeping on a chair was weird, because OBVIOUSLY, I was Kurt Hummel, and he should feel graced by my presence.

"...Sorry about that. I get kind of... feisty... when people wake me up in the middle of my beauty sleep. Uh, but look, you have fun finding whatever mediocre piece of clothing you're planning on giving Quinn; I'll see you tomorrow in Glee Club." I grabbed my coat and stalked off before he had the chance to bother me any more.

* * *

I managed to skid past my dad when I got home, avoiding dinner with a weak, "Already ate, dad." My door snapped shut with a soft click and I made my way to my closet, almost blinded by tears.

Normally, I was quite calm. But that dream... I didn't usually have dreams like that. Usually, I was smashing Rachel in a duet competition or singing with Judy Garland or having tea parties, not losing my voice. Not being unable to say the thing I've been meaning to say all along but haven't been able to.

Normally, I would have thought things through. I was the Queen of Sensibility, after all- even when it didn't seem like it. I did everything for a reason, in a calculated manner, so I could get exactly the results I wanted. I had control over everything.

The Dalton uniform was in my hands.

I don't remember anything after that.

* * *

Ok! This time I think I got a better hold of the formatting. It was all messed up for chapter one =p

Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate them! =]


	3. Chapter 3

Finn's POV:

I had to find the cheese.

It was like, the most important thing right now. Yeah, it was two in the morning or something, and everyone was asleep but I was _sooo_ hungry that no, it couldn't wait until morning. Ever since the Grilled Cheesus thing I'd been hooked on grilled cheese, no matter what time of day. Cheese anything, really. I love cheese.

I was also pretty sure I still loved Rachel, but that was kinda confusing because of Quinn. With her blonde hair and that flippy thing it did, she was kinda hard to get over. But then Rachel was... well, Rachel, and she was kinda hard to get over too. My grilled cheese was kind of burning, which was alright, but I really hoped I'd have a non-burnt sandwich for once.

I was almost done eating when I heard a soft thud and a quiet "Ow!" come from Kurt's room. For a minute I was torn- I _really_ wanted to finish the sandwich- but 'ow' wasn't a regular Kurt noise; Kurt wasn't even usually up this late. He said it had something to do with his skin or something like that.

"Hey," I knocked softly on Kurt's door, trying not to wake Burt or my mom. He didn't answer though, so I started to get kinda worried that maybe he was masturbating or something and he'd just fallen down or something. Or maybe he was dancing. Or like, what if someone kidnapped him and that's why he wasn't answering. I could see why someone would want to kidnap him- he was really unique and stuff and dressed like he lived on a pile of money, so maybe they thought he was rich and would give a really good ransom or something.

I burst into Kurt's room, unable to wait to see if he'd open the door himself. Okay, so bursting may have been a bit over dramatic, but that grilled cheese was just so good.

Kurt was on the floor.

I rushed over to him and shook him more forcefully than I should have, but why was he on the floor? He made a kind of grunt noise, so I leaned over him and kinda poked his face a bit, since I didn't really know what to do.

"Dude, Kurt, are you dead?" I whispered, pulling his head up into my lap. He mumbled something and I breathed a sigh of relief; thank Grilled Cheese, he wasn't dead. Kurt's eyes blinked open slowly, and then he sat up, and this was all so weird, and why were there scraps of material all over the place?

"Finn, why are you in my room?"

"...Why are you on the floor?" Kurt looked at me, confused, before answering.

"... I don't remember."

After standing, I held out my hand to help Kurt up. In the dark, he looked small and scared and-

"Finn, let go of me!" He complained, pushing against my hug.

"No. What's all over the floor, Kurt?" I asked, pointing at the blue and white and tan pieces of fabric. At that, Kurt paled visibly, covering his face with his hands. His shoulders started shaking, and a muted sniffle escaped through the spaces between his fingers. Then, just as soon as he began, he stopped.

"Get out of my room." Kurt pushed himself away from me, wiping his hands on his pants and fixing his hair like he usually did. I was still freaking confused though. What was going on? I opened my mouth to ask why I had to leave, but he beat me to it and repeated himself. "Get out of my room, Finn!" And with that, he shoved me from his room with more strength than I knew he had, and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

Kurt's POV:

_ My Dalton uniform._

What had I done?

I covered my face with my hands and slid quietly to the floor. I felt like breaking things. Even my amazing seamstress skills wouldn't be able to sew the shredded pieces of my old uniform together. In an attempt to make myself feel better, I collected the scraps of material and stuck them in a vintage Chanel shopping bag Mercedes had given me for my birthday last year. So far it's only purpose had been making a great decorative piece- now it could hide my stupid mistake. My stupid, under thought mistake.

A glance at the clock told me it was almost three in the morning- I was going to be dead at school tomorrow. I picked my iPod off my vanity table and crossed my room to get back in my bed when my eye caught on something shiny- the scissors- on the floor. Tossing my iPod on my duvet, I snatched the pair off the floor to bring them back to the kitchen, but as soon as my fingers brushed my doorknob I had second thoughts. What if I needed them for something? Like arts and crafts. Or snipping the frayed edges from my school assignments. Or...

Squeezing my eyes together, I decided the best plan of action would be to just set them in my bedside table drawer until further notice.

Slipping my earbuds in, I climbed under the covers of my bed. Finn could wake me up in the morning.

* * *

Turns out I didn't need Finn to wake me up that night. A few times I dozed off, but as soon as I'd fall asleep, I'd wake right back up again. I didn't sleep much the rest of the week, either.

I hadn't seen Blaine since that day at Dalton. We hadn't texted since... I couldn't remember when. All I knew is that I missed him, needed to see him, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to leave my room and drive to the Lima Bean, to see Blaine and have him plead for me to come back to Dalton, or to try and convince me that he should join me at McKinley. It wasn't that he needed my permission or anything- it was more of a loyalty thing. If I didn't want him here, he'd trust me on that.

I was beginning to think I'd treated him unfairly by leaving without saying anything. It was typical Kurt Hummel fashion- do something theatrical without meaning to, and regret it later. That's what happened with the uniform fiasco. And falling asleep at the mall. I needed to start actually thinking about things.

* * *

That Friday, while everyone was asleep, I started actually thinking about things.

I thought about how all of this was my fault in the first place. How, if I hadn't let Karofsky do what he did, I wouldn't have transferred, and I wouldn't have met Blaine...

My heart clenched at the thought of not having ever met Blaine. I missed him so much. Then again, had I never met him, I wouldn't be missing him. I'd probably still be fawning over Finn or Sam.

It was all so weird. I was back where I started, and I thought that would make me happy. I got what I wanted, no matter what, really. At least, eventually. Sometimes. Maybe I wasn't thinking straight.

I rolled over in bed, trying to get comfortable. There was a chance that I might have been spending a bit too much time in bed, which, even though it sounds like a good idea, really isn't. I was starting to miss strutting around shopping centers with Mercedes or whomever.

I thought about how different the dynamics were in New Directions, as opposed to how they used to be. There were inside jokes that everyone had, things I didn't understand since I'd been gone for so long. Quinn was being her old bitchy self (not that I didn't like that; I loved Quinn bitch) and Rachel was... old Rachel again. Which was awkward. Not to mention the new relationship between Santana and Brittany. I always had a feeling there was something more to Santana, but I hadn't quite realized she might be a lesbian. It just made her that much more awesome.

After adjusting myself again, my thoughts drifted to my uniform... And to Finn finding me. I must've looked so stupid, and even after almost a week of thinking it over, I couldn't remember actually doing it. And I couldn't keep my mind off of it. And it was just so _stupid_.

I reached to turn my lamp off, pausing when my eyes trailed to the bedside table drawer. They were in there. I'd been thinking about it all week, and it wasn't something I'd ever thought about before. It was just such a... solid idea. Something that was different from what I usually did. Something that might make me feel better.

They were so shiny; Weirdly shiny. I spun them around in my hand for a minute or so, debating on what I was about to do. It wasn't like it would hurt anyone but me. And it wasn't like I'd be doing too much damage. And maybe I'd only do it once or something. And if I wanted to stop, I could.

Carefully, I rolled back the sleeve of my dark, silk pajamas. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it was a good idea. I touched the edge of the blade- was that what it was called?- experimentally with my fingertips, trying to get an idea of what I was doing. I didn't know; I didn't care. My biggest concern was having someone barge in on me or something. What the fuck ever.

I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and bit hard, pressing the blade against my arm and pulling it across-not too hard- until tiny red liquid beads appeared along the thin line I had just created.

_Oh._

Something burned in the back of my throat, in my chest and in my stomach- almost like a hunger. My thoughts froze a bit as I slid the blade two, three, five, ten, times across my wrist, just deep enough to feel it and break the skin.

I don't know how long I was doing it for- 15, 30 minutes?- but once the first half of my forearm was covered in those tiny, perfectly straight lines, I felt like I could breathe again. Air flowed freely into my lungs more easily than it had in I couldn't remember how long. The thoughts in my head were slow and clear, and everything had a sort of quietness about it that previously wasn't there.

Quickly I slipped the pair of scissors into my bedside drawer and headed to my bureau to find an acceptable long-sleeved shirt to wear in the morning. If anything, I didn't want anyone to notice what I had done. It wasn't like it was any of their business either way, it was my body and I could decide for myself now what I wanted to do with it.

I selected a fairly plain (at least for my taste) shirt and crawled into bed. It was time for sleep now. The rest could wait for later.

* * *

Finn ended up waking me up in the morning, which was a huge indication of some seriously bad news; I was late. I scrambled out of bed with as much energy as I could muster and practically flung myself into my closet to find the rest of my outfit.

"Dude, are you okay? You're not _that_ late! There still like, an hour until you usually leave." Finn eyed me with concern and I forced myself to calm down. I could just grab my clothes and jump in the shower and everything would be fine.

"Thanks Finn." I managed, and sprinted to the bathroom.

* * *

I did end up being late, but only by ten minutes or so. No one even noticed, which was totally fine by me. By the time I got to Glee Club, my lack of sleep had definitely started to show.

"No sleep last night, Kurt?" Mercedes asked, setting her things by me.

"Lots of catching up to do." I smiled at her and she returned the gesture.

"Speaking of catching up, we need to hang out, I miss you." She whispered, as Mr. Schue entered the room, looking vestive, as usual.

"This weekend?" I asked. Her response was cut off by an energetic Mr. Schue who, much to our dismay, claimed he had found yet another Journey song we had yet to perform. The man needed to just take a break from it already.

"That would be great." She finished, hugging me tightly and swaying back and forth slightly. Maybe this weekend would be fun.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt's POV:

"Hey Kurt," My dad's voice rang down the hall, and I poked my head through the doorway, "Mercedes is waiting for you downstairs. Her mom just dropped her off."

"'Kay, thanks dad, tell her I'll be ready in a minute." I watched him for a minute, then pulled back into my room. Mercedes and I had made plans earlier in the week for dinner and a movie, but now I was kind of regretting it. It wasn't that I didn't want to hang out with her- our get together was much overdue, but I just had a nagging in my fingertips that made me not want to leave the comfort of my bed.

* * *

I did a quick sweep of my room to make sure I grabbed everything. My cell and wallet were in my pants pockets, and I didn't think I needed anything else. As I was leaving, I grabbed a light jacket to cover the short-sleeved shirt I was wearing. It was hotter than hell outside, but I kinda had to choose between some sweat or showing off my forearms and I really wasn't going for the latter.

"Ready?" I asked Mercedes, swinging into the living room. She was sitting on the sofa between Carole and Finn- really, how did she do that?- and was pretending to be absorbed in the game they were watching on the TV.

"Oh Kurt, yeah. Totally ready." She said, jumping up and leading the way to my car. Once I turned my car on and backed out of the driveway, Mercedes immediately took over my car radio, singing along with whatever mainstream songs were blasting through my speakers. Although I didn't really appreciate the whole possessiveness thing she was demonstrating, her being distracted gave me the chance to kind of delve into my own thoughts. Which helped distract me from the god-awful music she was playing.

By the time we got to Breadstix, the sun was setting and my mood was lowering with it. By the time we got a table, I wasn't even paying attention to what Mercedes was going on and on about. By the time our food came, I felt like I was in a sort of hazy bubble, where static buzzed constantly and it wasn't as easy as it usually was to fake a smile.

Wherever I looked, I was reminded of when the Warblers and I performed on Valentine's day. When I'd made an attempt to convince myself that being single for the rest of my fucking life was just fine- all the big ones never had solid relationships anyway.

It wasn't even the fact that I was facing a very Forever Alone-esque life; It was that I could not, for the life of me, keep Blaine out of my mind. He'd touched that chair. That was where we swayed back and forth during the chorus. That was where I had watched him through the entire number, where I had, though I was singing with the Warblers, been singing straight to him.

The night droned on, and I found myself waiting in line with Mercedes to get movie tickets and popcorn. She chose the latest romantic comedy- of course, of course- and we decided to split a giant popcorn. We made our way through the throngs of pre-teens to get to our movie, where we managed to find seats smack dab in the middle of the theater.

* * *

"Aah! Looks like we got luck, huh?" Mercedes laughed, patting me on the shoulder. I nodded and shoved an enormous fistful of popcorn in my mouth and figured it was a win-win situation; I didn't have to talk and I really, really had a thing for popcorn.

The movie ended up not being terrible. It wasn't good per se, but it was entertaining enough to keep me from being too bored for an hour and a half. However, I was more than happy when it was time for me to drop 'Cedes off at her house, and I almost felt a little bad. Almost.

"Thanks Kurt, I had fun. We got to talk about a lot of stuff, you know? Anyway, we should do this again! Soon! And maybe we can bring Tina or something?" She was definitely getting ahead of herself.

"Oh, no problem! I had fun too. Sure, we should!" I hoped I sounded sincere enough. She kissed me goodbye on the cheek and grabbed her purse, then slid from her seat and shut the car door with a smile. I watched her walk to her house and once she stepped inside, I floored it from her driveway. I was starting to realize that maybe I didn't appreciate her company as much as I used to.

That night, when I was sure everyone was asleep, I cut again.

* * *

Blaine's POV:

I walk down the hall, making my way to the music room. To the piano. It has taken days to find the right song, days of searching through not only my playlists, but Wes and David's, and nearly every other Warbler. And I've finally found it.

I enter the room, thankful to be alone. There are ten minutes until rehearsals, and I need this time for myself, to sing the things I've been feeling... as if it will help. Maybe it will.

The sheet music feels heavy in my hands, and it pulls my sluggish feet faster towards the corner of the room. I set the paper on the piano and lower myself to the bench, letting my hands find the keys. My throat is clear and as I began to sing, I hope my head will soon be too.

"_Should've kissed you there,  
I should've held your face,  
I should've watched those eyes,  
Instead of run in place.  
I should've called you out,  
I should've said your name,  
I should've turned around,  
I should've looked again..."_

My fingers tremble slightly, but I continue.

"_But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made...  
I'm staring at the mess I made  
I'm staring at the mess I made  
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away."_

I let him go. I didn't go after him. I could have, and things would be fine now.

"_Should've held my ground,  
I could've been redeemed  
For every second chance  
That changed its mind on me.  
I should've spoken up,  
I should've proudly claimed  
That oh my head's to blame  
For all my hearts mistakes._

_But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made...  
I'm staring at the mess I made  
I'm staring at the mess I made  
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away."_

My voice falters and I realize, one by one, the Warblers are filing into the room. They look at me, then themselves, and form a sort of casual circle around me. They start soft, barely audible, until their voices swell and join the sound of the piano.

"_And it's, you...  
And it's, you...  
And it's, you...  
And it's, you...  
And it's falling down  
As you walk away...  
And it's on me now  
As you go... "_

It's my fault. I knew he liked me. I know I like him. I wake up, and he overtakes my thoughts, and by the time I wear myself out with classes and music and studying, he is the subject of my dreams. I sleep and all I see is Kurt- singing, studying, laughing, crying, everything- and it burns. In the time he spent at Dalton, he became my best friend. Without him, I feel as though I'm missing the most important thing that could ever happen to me. And it's my fault.

"_But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made...  
I'm staring at the mess I made  
I'm staring at the mess I made  
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away..."_

My eyes are so full of tears that the keys become a wobbly mess of black and ivory. More than once I try to continue, but I can't get back on track. Shoulders shaking with sobs I can barely hold back, I nearly give up, but a set of hands pick up where I left off. I blink rapidly to see Warbler Jeff- I found the song in one of his playlists- sitting beside me, and somehow, I manage to continue.

"_And it's falling down  
As you walk away...  
And it's on me now  
As you go..." _

I can't even tell if I'm singing the right words anymore... If I'm even singing words, or if I'm just sobbing musically. Wes gives my shoulder a squeeze, reassuring and strong. I wish Kurt were here. I wish I hadn't gone for Jeremiah, who I wasn't even interested in, not really. He was just a weak, ridiculous distraction from what- who- I really wanted. And somehow, I'd let who I really wanted slip through my fingers.

"_But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made...  
I'm staring at the mess I made  
I'm staring at the mess I made  
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away."_

I finish, and drop my head to my hands. Numerous hands pat my back, and I feel David and Wes helping me to my feet. Warbler Jeff gives me what could be called the most awkward bro-hug of eternity. Behind me, I hear a few Warblers murmuring about my 'performance', but I don't care what they have to say. It wasn't for them.

"Come on Blaine, it's time to rehearse." Wes informs me, and I nod, slightly embarrassed. Although honest with my emotions, I don't usually fall apart this easily.

"I just miss him so much." I choke out, stumbling around the bench, falling in next to him.

"Well then, Warbler Blaine, you know what do."

I contemplate his words as rehearsals seem to drag on, and I realize he's right. The answer has been staring me in the face, and I've been too blinded to see it.

* * *

Kurt's POV:

I was sleeping restlessly, as usual, when I woke up doing something I hadn't done in months.

I was screaming. My throat was raw, the sheets were soaked in sweat and stuck to my body, and my hands were clawing at the bed, the blankets, the air- anything I could reach.

"Shhh, Kurt honey, it's alright, you're okay." Carole was standing near my bed, far enough away to not get hit. I stopped swinging, allowing her to sit on the edge of my bed. This hadn't happened since before I left for Dalton.

Carole eyed me carefully, as if I might start swinging again. Only once had I started again, and that was because I didn't realize Finn was... Finn. It had been too dark. Needless to say, he'd had a bit of a bruised eye after that.

"I'm sorry." I managed, leaning against my headboard. The clock told me it was almost five in the morning; Not quite early enough to go back to sleep, but not late enough to get ready. I didn't even want to get out of bed though.

"No, don't be. I just want to make sure you're okay. Finn was going to come see what was wrong but I... well, after what happened last time, I thought it better to have him wait outside." She smiled kindly and my eyes trailed to my door, where Finn stood, watching from a safe distance. This was crazy. I was crazy.

"I'm fine."

"Do you want to ta-"

"No, no, I'm okay, I just had a bad dream." I knew it was rude to cut her off, but talking was the last thing I needed to do. I just needed to stop talking. And thinking. And just... being.

"... Okay then, Kurt. Maybe you should stay home today. Call it a mental health day? If you want, I can go start you a bath with the lavender and vanilla bubbles you like?" I let out the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, and nodded frivolously. A minute later she was in the main bathroom, drawing my bath. Finn crept into my room slowly, watching as I crawled out of bed and started pulling off the sheets. No way would I sleep with them again until they were washed.

"No man, it's cool, I got it." He said, clumsily pulling sheets and blankets from the other side. Usually I would have protested- by the time he was done, my bed was crooked and he'd stubbed his toe twice- but I just didn't have the energy. I leaned against my vanity and watched him drag the bedding from my room, before coming back and standing before me.

"...Thanks?" I said, confused. Sure, we were brothers, but he almost never stood in front of me for long periods of time. Actually, most people didn't do that. It was really quite odd.

I opened my mouth to ask him what the hell he was doing when he enveloped me in a big Finn hug. I hugged back weakly, and he nodded, as if confirming something.

We stood for a while like that- as of late, he was becoming very huggy with me- and I thought about how I'd woken up screaming, again. How that meant no matter how hard I tried to forget, it would come back to me, even in my sleep. I was very glad Carole was making me a bath, because at least then I could scrub my skin until it hurt, and try to get the dream off my skin. It was the least I could do.

Carole passed my room and told me the bath was ready, and I pulled away from Finn, who really needed to get a hold of himself. I grabbed a towel from my bathroom and shot him a questioning look.

"What was that all about?" I asked, irritated. Three hours of sleep was not enough to run on, and I hoped I could at least take a nap at some point. Finn fidgeted with his hands and looked at me apologetically, almost nervously, and I froze where I stood when the words tumbled ungracefully from his mouth.

"I know what happened to you."

* * *

So!

Thanks for the reviews! I appreciate it soo sooo much. I love hearing what you guys do and don't like, and it definitely pressures me (in a good way) to get these chapters out. I know it takes a long time, but I've been trying to be more timely.

To the person who suggested a Blaine POV- you read my mind! I had been contemplating a Blaine POV for a while but I couldn't seem to fit it in. I hope I did well!

Also, the song Blaine sings is Mess I Made, by Parachute. I found it so fitting!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and review, review, review! Hopefully Chapter 5 will come more easily to me. =D


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so this took a really long time to get out and I apologize! I got super logged down with school work, so. But hopefully I can get the next part out much faster. I appreciate the reviews I've gotten too, and thanks for reading!**

* * *

My blood was cold. Finn really needed to leave; by the time I got in the bath, I'd have to ask Carole to run the water all over again. He was ruining my sick day.

"How did you find out?" I questioned, voice nearly monotonous. I couldn't believe someone _knew_. It was unacceptable. I needed to be more careful.

"Dude, you were yelling it when I was waking you up from your nightmar-"

"Did my dad or Carole hear?" There was a pause from Finn and I leaned heavily against the wall. All I could think was, '_No, no, no, no, no, no.'_

"No. I woke you up before they heard, but I can help you tell them, I mean, if you want, or something. Because... because it's serious, you know?" He stared at me, waiting for an answer, but I stayed silent. It wasn't _serious_. It was _nothing_. Nothing happened. Nothing, nothing, nothing. After a moment, I found the words to speak.

"Finn, listen. Don't tell anyone. Not your mom, not my dad, not Rachel, or Quinn, whatever. Forget what you heard, and go to school."

He Gaped. "But-"

"No, go. Let me enjoy my day off. But I swear, if you say anything I will never, ever forgive you. Ever."

For a moment, his usually cheerful eyes were clouded with hurt. The moment passed, and he was squeezing me in his huge Frankenstein arms. I was squished. Before leaving, he said: "I know you don't wanna, but I'm like, right down the hall if you need to talk to me or something? Just like, leave your room and turn right, and-"

"I know where your room is."

"...Okay. Okay." He walked out of my room, and I was left feeling worse than when I woke up.

* * *

I didn't have Carole rerun the bathwater. I was taking a below room temperature bath, and it sucked. And I deserved it.

Bubbles rose to the surface as I pulled my head underwater and exhaled. I wondered if I held my breath long enough of I would drown, or just pass out and float to the top. Either way, it didn't matter. I couldn't stand becoming more pruned than I already was. And I really didn't want to be found dead and naked.

The rest of the day was spent in my pajamas, under a ton of blankets Carole had tucked around me before turning on a Project Runway marathon and handing me a hot chocolate. By one in the afternoon, the mug was long empty and I was napping comfortably. It was a wonderful and much needed break from reality.

I stayed home the next day, too. It was like I was sick, but without the stuffed up nose or cough or fever. It was a different kind of sick. Maybe it was worry- I still wasn't entirely convinced that Finn would keep his word. There really wasn't any way to be sure. And that just wasn't okay.

Carole was amazing for me though. Since she usually worked 2nd shift, she and I were able to spend at least half the morning lazing around before she had to get ready to leave. I helped her choose an outfit for her date with my dad the next day, and we chatted about things my dad and Finn just didn't seem to understand. There was still a part of me that longed for my mom though. It was just harder lately for me to not miss her uncontrollably. I would have thought I'd be more able to deal with it by now.

That evening, while Carole and my dad were both working and Finn was planted in front of his TV playing some arbitrary video game, I fingered the blades of my scissors. I was locked in my room again. It was something I did on a regular basis, but I knew no one would barge in on be or anything, and I was in a terrible mood that I still couldn't get rid of, no matter how hard I tried.

The second I dragged the blade across my skin, the doorbell rang.

"Kurt! Could you get that? I'm in the middle of..." I couldn't hear the rest of Finn's shouting through the wall, but I called back an ever so slightly panicked "YES!" before shoving my scissors quickly under my bed. I grabbed a tissue and dabbed at my arm with more force than necessary, willing it to stop bleeding so I could roll down my sleeve without having to worry about it being stained. But it wasn't working, and it wasn't heavy bleeding or anything, so I pulled out a clean tissue and pressed it over my arm before pulling down my sleeve and buttoning it around my wrist. Hopefully, that would be enough.

Jogging to the door, the bell rang again and again and again, and was in the process of dong-ing when I flung it open and found, to my surprise, a Miss Rachel Berry standing bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on my doorstep. I waited for her to speak.

"Hi, Kurt, Finn told me..." I held my breath. He told her? How could he do that to me? When Rachel left, I was going to- "... that you weren't feeling well, so I courteously brought you a big bowl of vegan noodle soup. It's what I like when I'm sick, since it's super good and super good for you, obviously because it's a Berry family recipe! Where should I put it?" She had let herself into the kitchen and was babbling uncontrollably and unloading from her bag a large Tupperware container full of soup that looked seriously amazing. My stomach growled fiercely. Although Carole had been giving me enough hot chocolate for three people in the last few days, I really hadn't felt up to eating anything.

Seeing the look on my face and probably hearing my stomach rumbling, Rachel left the container on the kitchen table and smiled.

"Well, I'll leave it here then. You just eat, I'm gonna go visit Finn for a little bit, but who knows why, he's probably glued to the television again, but we'll see about that!" By this time she was already down the hall, shouting to Finn that he, "better turn off the TV if he even wanted to think about making out!" At that, I tuned out and searched for a clean spoon.

* * *

After Rachel left, I cleaned her bowl and set it on the counter so I'd remember to bring it to her the next day. Feeling bad about my earlier blow-up at Finn, I padded down the hall (using his directions, of course) and knocked on his door frame. He paused his game and glanced up at me with an almost guilty expression. Now I just felt like an asshole.

"Sorry if you're mad at me for telling Rachel, I just thought you looked hungry and no one else seems to like grilled cheese anymore, so."

"No, no, thanks. I feel a lot better, actually. That was really nice of you guys."

He smiled brightly, and I thought about how, once upon a time, a smile like that would have made my knees weak. Instead, now I smiled back and hopped up onto his bed, grabbing a controller.

"Alright, so how do I play?"

* * *

In the days following, I didn't miss anymore school, although I still had that tired, achy, afrul feeling that was following me everywhere. Most days were veiled by a mass of fog, and I carried out my actions with a dull monotony. I didn't want anyone to worry about me though, and I was really trying to be happy so they wouldn't notice, and so that I could maybe trick myself into feeling better, but nothing worked. And then I felt even worse because I was lying to everyone. It was a constant loop, never-ending. And it needed to stop.

* * *

It was Friday again. No matter what I did, I kept ending up on Fridays, feeling completely awful. As I made my way to the bathroom, I found myself wondering at the more trivial things people seemed to be worked up about. _That_ one didn't get an A+ on her exam. _That_ one broke up with his girlfriend. _That_ one wore the wrong shoes today. And to them, it was the end of the world. I just didn't understand.

By the time I reached the bathroom, I was breathing in a new, scary way that made my head spin. I elbowed the door open and teetered into a stall, leaning heavily against the cool, metal wall. I needed to calm down. I needed to breathe. I needed to control myself.

My eyes traveled to my bag, and I knew what would help. I knew what I wanted to do. Quietly, I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt and thought to myself, _'Is this really a good idea? You're at school... and that's part of the problem. But what if someone catches me?' _This was turning into one of those inner debates I always saw on television but never realized really happened. The devil on one shoulder and angel on the other, thing. And I wasn't even religious.

No one would find out, I reassured myself, and continued, feeling a strong sense of relief when those thin, red lines crossed my skin, dotted with red beads. I lost track of time, and when I checked my phone I noticed more than 15 minutes had passed. Lunch would be over soon. I put my things back in my bag and made to leave the stall, but just as I was sliding the lock open, the bathroom door burst froth with loud shouts and roaring laughter.

Football team.

I stumbled back so quickly that I almost fell into the toilet. Shuffling back and trying to be as silent as possible, I stayed in the stall and hoped my shoes weren't visible.

Zippers and the unmistakable sound of peeing. I was so grossed out. I never understood the appeal of public bathrooms and found myself longing for the sanitary, generally private bathrooms at Dalton. Checking the time again, I saw I had less than five minutes until class- at this rate, I'd probably be late. I waited for what seemed like forever, occasionally peeking through the spaces between the door and the walls, watching as the players filed out, one by one. Whoever thought boys didn't take communal bathroom breaks was sorely mistaken.

Finally it was down to the last two. Azimio turned and said to Dave: "You comin' man? You're gonna miss all that fine-"

Dave, from his position at the sinks (where he seemed to have been nearly the whole time), cut him off with a tense, "Nah, I'm good. Plenty to see next period." and received a curious look from Azimio, who shook his head before he left. It was just me and Dave, alone, in the bathroom. I didn't dare breathe.

"You can come out, Kurt. No one else in this school has shoes that color." Dave spoke softly, and I felt like an animal trapped in a box. Nowhere left to go but out, the lock slid open and I stepped forward, concentrating on controlled, mechanical movements of hand washing. Soap, lather, rinse. Soap, lather, rinse. His voice was even softer this time.

"Kurt, I know you've been avoiding me. I just.." A particularly loud crowd of students passed the bathroom. The noise ended as fast as it started. Lather, rinse. I turned the water hotter. "- I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't mean for-"

"I know." My voice scared me. A hollow, cracked noise I wasn't accustomed to hearing. What surprised me even more was what I'd said. Until now, I'd thought I blamed him for what happened. I thought he had done it on purpose. That it was his fault. But I realized I knew all along that we both had been at fault. It could even be my fault. His face was frozen in place; He'd probably had a whole speech prepared. I pulled a paper towel and dried my hands. I had the sense that he was staring at me, but I hadn't even so much as glanced at him since I shocked him by forgiving him.

"Kurt..." He mumbled, placing his hand on my shoulder. I coiled back, and his face fell slightly.

" Just because I said I know, doesn't mean you can touch me." I bit out, stalking towards the door.

"Wait! Kurt!" He called, moving to follow me, but I was already gone. I left him standing alone, arm outstretched, calling after me. But I was done. There would be no more "Talking."

I was done.

* * *

**Aah! Okay, what do you think? Any suggestions for further chapters? **

**Please review! Even if you didn't like it. I just like to know that people read it! =D**

**Also, please tell me if there are any grammatical/spelling errors. I didn't have the chance to have someone else read over it yet! 3**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here you go! Sorry it took so long! Make sure to review when you're done. =D**

* * *

I hadn't been feeling very well lately. There seemed to always be a hot, stuffy haze that followed me around until I was able to come home and strip all three layers of shirts from my body before falling asleep. Today - by some miracle - Western Ohio was experiencing winter-like conditions. For weeks everyone had been tricked into believing spring was here to stay, but obviously they were wrong. And, quite frankly, I couldn't be happier. Wearing two long-sleeved shirts and a jacket was getting to be a bit too much. I was so worried about being caught though that I didn't want to risk anything less. Some days I felt like the kid from 'A Christmas Story', where his mom dresses him in that big puffy coat and he falls in the snow and yells, _"I can't get up!"._ Only, it wasn't my mother who was dressing me in layers upon layers of clothing, and no one was there to help me up.

In celebration of the cold weather, I decided to do something unusual. Unusual for me, at least. I managed to make it through a few classes, but by lunch, my skin was itching and the thought of lunch food repulsed me. The Lima Bean seemed like a much better option.

* * *

Slipping away was easy- I didn't usually go to lunch anymore anyway, and though Mckinley was a closed campus school, no one said anything to me when I walked through the front doors of the building. A stroll through the parking lot, and I was at my shiny, black Escalade and I was free. With relief, I peeled off my sweater and jacket, leaving me only in a thin, long-sleeved shirt. I climbed inside, driving away towards the Lima Bean and feeling a slight prickle of happiness for the first time in weeks.

By the time I arrived, lunch was far over and it was nearing the end of the school day. I had taken the long way because it had just felt so good not to have to worry being caught. When I did finally get out of my car, I only pulled my sweater of my head, and left my jacket in the back seat. So nice.

I ordered my usual and started towards my go-to table, but nearly immediately stopped. Too many memories. Instead, I chose a seat in the back of the coffee shop, where I'd never sat before. Dim, quiet, more secluded than the other table. Perfect.

For a while, I people watched. Because of the time there was more of an elderly crowd, grandpas and grandmas ordering coffee before enjoying the newspaper. There was a mom with her young boy and older daughter, the latter of which looked like she'd rather be run over than be in the middle of a noisy coffee shop. Her mom was busy fussing over the boy, and while the girl thought no one was looking (and presumably, aside from myself, no one was- the family didn't stand out from anyone else) I watched her slide her fingers up her sleeve and rub her wrist. I mirrored the action and understood effortlessly how she was feeling: trapped, ignored. My attention was so wholly with her that I barely noticed the two figures slide into the seats across from me.

"Hey Kurt!" I blinked quickly as I cleared my thoughts and pulled my attention away from the girl.

"Hey... Wes, Dave. What're you guys doing here? School isn't even over." I found myself mumbling, choking out words before thinking. Why couldn't I have an afternoon alone? I was irritated and confused, and slid my arms under the table and around my waist while they responded. My insides twisted with regret at the fact that I didn't just take my jacket with me- seriously, why didn't I just bring it? I felt horribly exposed, under examination. They couldn't find out.

"I think we could ask you the same, Kurt." Wes replied, earning a chuckle from Dave. I stared back, wondering what this was all about. By now my coffee was barely lukewarm and as I sipped it to ease the tension, I grimaced. I shouldn't have skipped. I shouldn't have gone to the Lima Bean of all places. There were plenty of coffee shops near Lima, that weren't crowded with nosy Warblers who wouldn't stop asking me questions that I could barely pay attention to long enough to answer.

Dave eyed me from over the top of his cup. "So Kurt, how've you been since the transfer?" he asked, in a way that made me uncomfortable. His tone was almost accusatory, as if I were guilty of something I wasn't aware of. No memories I could conjure up had any trace of the two ever treating me like this; they were usually so polite. Not today, apparently.

"Fine, peachy. Everyone was really happy that I came back. Much nicer than before I left, you know. How's Blaine?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, and as soon as it hit the thick air I wished severely that I could take it back. I had been so absorbed in trying to avoid letting them know anything was wrong that I managed to ask about the one thing I'd been evading for weeks. Time ticked by, as they glanced at each other, like they were trying to find the right answer.

"He's great! We just finished practicing some solos, and-"

"- he's never been better! We were worried at first-"

"...Because of Pavarotti. He still seemed kind of upset about that."

"But he's not anymore! Really, nothing to worry about." They smiled at me at the same time, and I pinched my sides to keep myself in check. It was like they were dismissing me. _'Blaine's better than ever now that you're gone!'_ seemed to be what they were saying. I was caught between guilt for ignoring my best friend, and a raw, hot anger that he seemed to be doing so well. My insides were exploding. I was suffocating on air. I needed to get away from them.

_"...Kurt?" _

"Yes?" Had I missed something?

"I asked if you were okay." Wes repeated, his voice betrayed his cool expression and I suddenly felt like I was in the middle of a fucked up therapy with coffee session.

"I thought I already answered that? Anyway, I should go. I have to get back home, my dad needs help in the garage. See you around." I was a crazy person. My keys crashed to the floor when I jumped up from my seat, and my voice- I didn't even sound like myself. Hot waves of embarrassment flooded my body as I picked them up, attempting to work my way between the maze of tables and chairs that obstructed my path.

"Hey, you forgot your coffee!" Dave commented from behind me, and I didn't even bother to turn when I answered, "I'm not thirsty."

The girl from earlier, who I'd been watching so intently, now focused on me with wide, brown eyes. Then, her face contorted in disgust.

"What are _you_ staring at, fag?"

Sometimes things in my life seem to pass too quickly. Leaving Dalton, for one. Performing at Sectionals and Regionals. Shopping. And then there are those things that, no matter how hard I try to speed them up, linger and take their time. This was one of those moments.

My face was beet red as I looked between the girl and her mother, who both seemed to be waiting for a response from me. The shop was blanketed in a heavy silence, but I couldn't tell if the usual noise was just being masked by the intense roaring in my ears. Dave and Wes watched me from the back of the shop, overly dramatic looks of shock painted on their faces.

* * *

On a different day, I would have thought up a snide remark to shoot back before strutting away from her. Instead, a garbled mess of words passed through my lips before I stumbled outside, shaking by the time I got back in my car. I punched the steering wheel in rage. Rage that I didn't stand up for myself, that I had even needed to. That I'd felt sorry for her not even a quarter of an hour prior to her shitting all over me in front of a bunch of elderly people and the baristas. That I'd been too weak to do anything but take it.

When I woke up in bed later, I couldn't exactly remember the drive home. Apparently I hadn't done any damage though, because I was fine and so was my car. My parents were out but Finn was in the kitchen trying desperately to not burn his grilled cheese, and as much as I wanted to stay cocooned in my blankets, I hadn't eaten anything all day and it felt like my stomach was turning inside out.

My first choice would have been Rachel's vegan soup (and I wasn't even remotely vegetarian, let alone vegan, so I couldn't figure out why I liked it so much) but since I'd finished that off weeks ago, I couldn't really have any more. After searching the cupboards and pantry and failing to find anything even remotely appetizing, I reverted to my usual late evening snack- apples and peanut butter. Being convenient as she was, Carole bought pre-sliced apples in little bags, and pre-portioned peanut butter containers. I sat down at the table and ran my hands through my hair. Sleeping with gelled hair- even if it was a considerably low amount- never seemed to work well for me, and resulted in big chunks of hair that I swear were super glued together. I'd have to spend hours in the bathroom trying to get it to lay straight again.

"Want a grilled cheese?" Finn questioned. I shook my head, motioning to the food in front of me.

"Thanks, but no. If you wanted to though, you could put the tea kettle on the stove for me." I had an intense craving for pumpkin tea with honey and a bit of orange juice (from a real orange!), mostly because Finn had the last of the iced tea and I didn't really feel like pop at the moment.

"Sure, no problem!" He chirped, enthusiastically. From my seat at the kitchen table I watched Finn grab the kettle from the cupboard and set it on the stove before turning back to his grilled cheese, which was sizzling in a bad way and smelled like burnt everything. I almost had the heart to tell him that wasn't exactly what I meant by 'put the kettle on', but a sudden heaviness seemed to wash over me that made it impossible to do anything but throw my trash away and head back to my room.

* * *

"You know, we missed you at the end of the day." The statement hung in the air. I knew what he wanted to ask was, _'Where were you,' _or, _'I know you skipped class, why?'_but instead of answering, I stared at the blank space of wall behind his head. There was nothing I wanted to say. No lies that I could come up with off the top of my head, and I didn't want to tell him the truth. I couldn't imagine that conversation going over very well. As an alternative, I threw on my best, 'silly me' smile and shrugged, hoping it was enough. Hoping that I cared if it was enough. I didn't think I did.

It wasn't my intention to spend an hour in front of the mirror after creeping back into my room, but it happened. I was on my way to the shower because of the gel fiasco, when I stopped in front of the full length mirror on my bathroom's closet door and just stared at myself. And stared. And after a while, I started noticing things, tiny imperfections that I hadn't quite seen before. A pimple where my skin should have been smooth. One too many stray hairs around my usually lightly manicured eyebrows. My elbows were a funny shape, and god, where there should have been flat, taught skin, there was fat. It was _everywhere_. Pudgy, lumpy, jiggly pieces of me that were disgusting. I twisted around in the mirror, finding more and more, until it was all I could see, all that I was. Never had I been more hateful towards what I was seeing. It was atrocious. No wonder Blaine never liked me. No wonder the only attraction I could get from a male was-

In my head was the fuzzy feeling I always got in my arms or legs when one of them fell asleep. I stumbled blindly into the shower, twisting the knobs until water poured out, scalding my hands as I pushed the plug into the drain. Tripping over my pants when I pulled them off, I grunted as I smashed into the counter, my body aching in pain. I slid to the floor, breathing slowly and trying to get a hold of myself. I was being ridiculous, stumbling around my bathroom like a fool. Slowly, I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor, set a towel on the rack for when I got out, and climbed into the tub. I had intended on taking a shower, but a bath was fine.

My skin felt like it was on fire as I lowered myself into the scalding water, my arms, covered with cuts, burned when thrust in. I fingered the red lines, almost unaware of the tears flowing from my eyes. I was such a _baby_. The cuts were so shallow; barely deep enough to draw blood, just enough to leave faint white scars when healed. I didn't have the guts to go any deeper. Maybe I could add that to my list of things I was awful at.

Sliding lower into the tub, I held my breath, submerged completely. My heartbeat was slow, quickening with each second I deprived myself of oxygen. I was awful, disgusting, horrible. A dirty, ruined, shell of a 'person' that worsened with each day I woke up.

Tiny bubbles escaped my lips and floated to the surface. I lost track of how long I had been holding myself underwater. It was warm, safe, in the near silence, the dim lights, the loneliness. I was away from everything that hurt, everything I was hiding from. And I never wanted to resurface.

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**Woo cliffhanger, right?**

**Sorry it took so long to update- lots of homework and other crap that distracted me from the more important things in my life (this). **

**Pretty please review? It really helps to know that you guys are reading it! I appreciate anything. **

**Hopefully I can get the next chapter out soon. I should, since I've got a good 3 week break off from school coming up. Yay!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, I finally managed to update! Yay! I'm super sorry it took so long, but I was having a lot of family issues and then I (not even going to lie) quite possibly may have forgotten I was writing this for a few weeks. However, I remembered, and hopefully I did okay with this chapter. Please tell me if I missed any words or grammatical errors. It's been so long since I've written anything that I'm a bit rusty =S.**

**Anyway, here it is. Thanks sooo much for all the reviews! I really appreciate it! =D**

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**Kurt's POV:**

Nothing.

I was nothing. As I stared at the ceiling from where I lay spread eagle on my bed, I felt nothing. I had gone beyond pain, beyond sadness, beyond hurt. There was nothing left but an empty body, ugly and soft, incapable of doing anything right. I wasn't supposed to be this way. I was supposed to be happy, smiley Kurt. Instead, I was... this.

Unable to bear how silent the house was once everyone was gone, I rolled over and grasped around for my Ipod dock remote. My body groaned in protest, urging me to lie still, to meld into my blankets until I was no more. I had feigned sick again this morning, throwing up breakfast almost immediately after eating it. Carol didn't need to know that I didn't have the flu and the reason I couldn't keep anything down was because I hadn't eaten in days. That the feeling of food in my stomach was so foreign and unpleasant that just thinking about it nauseated me. No one needed to know.

Pressing play, I searched for something even slightly pleasant to listen to. Showtunes were too vibrant, any mainstream pop was too overplayed and annoying, and nearly everything else just seemed to make my head hurt. Finally, I settled on Mumford & Sons; A seldom played selection, low enough to merely be background noise to my screaming thoughts. Exactly what I was looking for.

* * *

As the music progressed, I pulled myself off my bed and shuffled to the window and looked out across the many manicured lawns stretching down my street. I could imagine all the families inside, leading perfect little lives, happy and content without anything to worry about. I squinted against the sun and my eyes tingled from exhaustion even though I had only been awake for maybe two hours, tops. With a heavy sigh, I turned back to my bed, climbed in, and pulled the covers over my head to block out the sun. If this was what life was going to be like now, I wasn't so sure I wanted in.

"... And you're getting really far behind in Glee Club, Kurt. I know you're... _sick_... but we really miss you, and it's getting so boring without any _real_ competition, if you know what I mean. Which, I'm sure you would, if you were even listening to me. I mean, I don't really expect any responses because you're asleep, but I thought _maybe_ you'd wake up when I came in, and as much as I really do love to hear myself talk, it's getting-"

"... Rachel."

"Oh look! You're awake. I just thought I'd come over and... why are you looking at me like that?"

"What the fuck are you doing in my room?" I knew it was harsh, I really did. But seriously? I'd been sleeping. For the first time in weeks, I'd been asleep for more than a few hours. And as much as I loved her, she needed to shut up.

Seeing she was hurt, I tried again,"Sorry, I was just... you surprised me. What're you doing here?" I started to sit up but stopped when I realized I'd been sleeping in a short-sleeved shirt instead of a long-sleeved one. I didn't need her to find out about anything, that would just be... awful. Instead, I settled back under the covers and let my eyes drift shut again while she babbled on. I wasn't too sure what she was saying since I was still in that mid-awake stage, but she seemed content with my strategically placed one-word answers.

After a while, I found out she'd convinced Carole to let her in (apparently it was a lot later than I'd thought, but I wasn't so sure that was a bad thing) and she'd been talking to be for twenty minutes before her excitement woke me up. If that wasn't dedication, I didn't know what was.

"So, will you come to Glee tomorrow? Pleaaaase?" She was bouncing up and down slightly on the mattress and it was making me feel nauseous. Extremely nauseous.

"Okay, fine. But only if you stop bouncing on my bed. Unless you want me to throw up on you, which is totally fine by me..."

"Oh, no, no, I'll stop. Promise you'll come to Glee? We all miss you!" Her smile was so wide that I almost returned something like it, but I'm sure it came off as more of a grimace. All the same, I nodded and gave in to her pleading, although I highly doubted anyone missed me. I ached to have the same friendships I'd had before transferring to Dalton, but it seemed like too much had changed since then. They moved on, and I'd just expected to kind of pick up where I'd left off.

"Yeah, I promise," My response was met with a squeal loud enough to make me cringe and pull the covers over my head. "Can I go back to sleep now though?"

Finally, Rachel left, after I don't even know how long. Every time I thought she was about to get up and go, she'd start on another rant about pulling everyone's weight in Glee. Although I wasn't really up for talking, I can't say I minded it all that much. It was a nice change, after spending so much time alone in my room. I couldn't remember the last time I spoke to someone outside of my family.

* * *

I let myself drift in and out of sleep for the rest of the night, waking only when I had to use the bathroom and when my dad came in to check up on me. After assuring him I'd be going to school the next day, I groaned into my pillows. I'd give anything to be able to just sleep the rest of the year away, but apparently that wasn't going to happen.

Finn smiled at me when I entered the kitchen the next morning. I think he'd become accustomed to me either skipping breakfast or sleeping through it. Skipping the pancakes he was shoving down his throat, I pulled a bowl of fruit Carole had sliced up the night before from the fridge and picked out a few pieces for myself. I'd be lucky if I could keep it down, and I didn't even want to think of what would happen if I tried to eat pancakes like Finn.

"Is that all you're having?" He questioned, through a mouthful of food. I tried not to cringe.

"'m not very hungry." I mumbled, forcing myself to eat. It wasn't as if I didn't _want_ to, entirely. I just didn't feel like it. And all I could think about was how much fatter I was going to get if I ate. When I looked up at Finn I couldn't help but feel guilty; I hadn't been spending much time with him, and we lived in the same house. Muffling a sigh, I forced myself to finish breakfast and follow him outside, where we climbed into our separate cars and made our way to school.

It took a lot of effort to actually get out of my car once I'd parked it. Twice I'd checked my bag to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything; twice more I'd contemplated cutting because of how nervous I was, how much I just wanted to turn around and go back home. I thought maybe if I cut, I'd be able to make it through the day. Eventually, I pushed the door open and slid out, making my way between classes in a haze. Half the time I could barely remember which class I was in. The only thing that kept me present was Rachel, who managed to find me between each class and ask me, repeatedly, if I was still coming to Glee Club after school.

"For the last time, Rachel, yes!" I grumbled over my salad. She'd asked me too many times to count, but I was fairly sure it had to be at least thirty. _Thirty_ times.

"Just checking!" She chirped, turning her attention back to Finn. Sometimes, I loved Rachel. Other times, I wanted to duct tape her mouth shut. This was one of those other times.

Despite the horrendous amount of sleep I had the previous night, I was nodding off by the time Glee Club came around. I wanted to sleep in the back corner while everyone danced like fools, and I wouldn't even mind the cacophonous music as long as I didn't have to be awake any longer. Unfortunately, before I even stepped into the classroom, Rachel was dragging me along and pulling me into the seat next to her. I could feel her literally vibrating from excitement, or happiness, or whatever she was teeming with. Not to be Negative Nancy or anything, but I just wasn't feeling it.

As the room filled, I distracted myself by checking whatever I could think of on my phone. My inbox was empty. I hadn't missed any calls. No new e-mails. Nothing on Facebook. But I kept checking over and over, hoping the time would go by faster. Finally, the bell rang, and I managed to tune into some of what Schue was jabbering about, while I was still trying to engross myself in other people's meaningless statuses.

"So, we have a new student..." Apparently someone discovered that tattoos were painful. _Duh._ "...please welcome him and be respectful while he..." Someone else just ate a waffle. _How fascinating. Why don't you tell us more? _"...Alright, whenever you're ready."

A song started, soft and timid on the piano; I'd never heard it played this way, I was so used to hearing it performed with a full band or an acoustic guitar that it seemed almost unfamiliar. My attention was still so trained on my phone and Rachel's hyperactive form that I nearly missed it when he started singing.

"..._I've never had a yearning quite like this before_

_ Know that you are walking right through my door._

_ All of my life_

_ Where have you been..."_

My head snapped up, and I let my phone slide back into my bag, abandoned, no longer needed to keep me awake.

_ "...I wonder if I'll ever see you again_

_ And if that day comes_

_ I know we could win_

_ I wonder if I'll ever see you again..."_

I turned to look at Rachel, who was grinning at me while still managing to look teary-eyed from the song. Breathing was difficult. She grabbed my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Slowly, I turned back to face the piano.

_ "...For better worse, wherever..._

_ And I would never let somebody break you down_

_ Until you cried, never..."_

Blaine.

_ "...All of my life_

_ Where have you been?_

_ I wonder if I'll ever see you again..."_

Was this really happening?

_ "...At every time I've always known_

_ That you where there, upon your throne..."_

I wasn't sure what to do. He was here, singing in front of me, after not seeing or speaking to him in what felt like forever. I felt like I was going to pass out or just float up out of the room.

_ "...I longed for you, my love forever..."_

Goosebumps erupted across my body as he continued the song, and I held tighter onto Rachel's hand. I wanted to run up to Blaine and hold him, and never let go. At the same time, I wanted to run from the room screaming. I wasn't happy again.

_ "...I wonder if I'll ever see you again..."_

I thought that if I was able to be friends, at least, with him again, I'd stop being like this. Even if I just talked to him. Or saw him. Yet here he was, in McKinley, in _Glee Club_, and I still felt like flushing myself down the drain.

_"...I wonder if I'll ever see you again."_

He finished singing and the room erupted in applause. While he nodded thanks to everyone else, his eyes were trained on me. My heart was racing and my palm was sweating against Rachel's. Why wasn't I happy? Why wasn't I clapping? Why couldn't I breathe?

_Why was I leaving the room?_

The room hushed as I sped towards the door, trying my best not to look at Blaine as I raced past. I couldn't do this- pretend like I was okay anymore. My shoes squeaked against the tile floor, legs shaking until I found a familiar place, quiet and away from everyone else. The bathroom stall.

It wasn't even a question this time, of weather or not I was going to cut. The stall door was barely locked behind me before I was rolling up my sleeve and digging around in my bag for my scissors. I thought seeing Blaine again would make me happy. Red droplets dotted my skin. I thought somehow, it would fix me. My eyes watered as I cut deeper than usual, trying to find an empty space between all the other cuts that covered my arms.

_My face was pressed against the asphalt, tiny rocks digging into my exposed skin. _

I blinked hard, shaking my head until I stopped thinking. And then I started hitting myself. Every inch of my body that I could swing at- arms and legs especially- I pounded my fists against, until I was out of breath and my knuckles were bruised. It hurt. Immediately I turned around and threw up in the toilet, tears streaming from my eyes, hands trembling as I struggled to keep the awkward-squat position over the toilet. I still didn't want to ruin my pants by kneeling on the bathroom floor.

When my stomach was done turning itself inside-out, I checked to make sure I wasn't bleeding any longer, and rolled my sleeves back down. I didn't bother to check myself in the mirror as I left the bathroom- I knew I looked awful, and no amount of primping would fix it. The halls were silent, and so was I. While I made my way to the parking lot, my body ached from where I'd attacked it; My forearms stung where there were fresh cuts. I felt like digging my fingernails into my flesh until I disappeared. I couldn't do this anymore. I was done.

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**Oookay! There it is. Hopefully I have eight up soon. I actually cut off a bit of this one since it would have made this chapter way longer than the others, so I figured it would fit better in chapter eight. Maybe that'll make me write faster? =p**

**Again, if I missed anything, please tell me. =D **

**Thanks for all the reviews! I love to know what people think. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Okay! So it's been forever since I've updated and I'm soooo sorry! I've been having a lot of family issues which have made it quite difficult to update, but I finally got the chance to work on it, so yay! Thanks to everyone who still reads this even though I'm awful at updating! I hope everyone likes it and tells me what they think =)

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**Kurt's Point of View:**

I ran my fingers across my bookshelves, marveling at how smooth and perfect their surfaces were. I wanted to be that. Stoic, unfeeling. But I wasn't sure that would ever happen, given my current state. Wiping the fine traces of dust off onto my pants, I made my way to the window, pushing it open to let the cool air push against my skin. No, I wanted to be _that_. Fleeting, permeating, unable to be trapped. Could I move in any direction I pleased without being judged? Could I be whatever I wish to be and push others out of my path, instead of the other way around? My bed molded around me as I slid between the sheets. I didn't want to be this soft, fluffy, easily manipulated thing. But I was.

"What happened to me?" I breathed to the ceiling, feeling my words weigh heavier than my body; lately, it seemed to take more energy to speak than to exist. Cutting wasn't even a question any longer- my fingers found the scissors before my mind had the chance to think. Under the tent of sheets and blankets piled over me, I sat and ran the blade across my arm over and over again, until it was all I could feel, until I no longer felt it, until I could breathe again. My arm was a sea of red, and I suddenly couldn't stop worrying about bleeding on my sheets. What if Carole saw? How would I excuse that?

I pushed the bedding over my head with my right hand, careful to keep my other arm safely away from the fabric, and rushed to the bathroom to wash my feelings down the sink. As soon as the water started running clear over my arm, as soon as I was dry and no longer bleeding, I regretted my inability to control myself. Was I really so pathetic I couldn't even go a day without ripping my skin apart? Obviously.

Then there was the mystery of why I couldn't seem to remember things. I didn't remember coming home. I was at Glee, I left, and then I was home. There was nothing in my head that told me I'd actually driven home. It didn't make much sense to me, but I didn't figure there was any use in trying to figure it out. Nothing seemed to matter anyway, so what was the point?

I was just climbing back into bed when the doorbell chimed, and I wondered if there was a way I could disconnect it later without my dad finding out. It was the most obnoxious noise, and only further aggravated my throbbing head. Again, it rang, assaulting me with its loud clanging. I had helped Carole pick that horrible thing out when her and my dad bought this house- what had I been thinking? From the front door I heard my dad call my name, and it took everything I had not to just sink under the covers and ignore him. With my luck it would be Rachel or Mercedes again, or some door to door salesman that was trying to sell my dad something he knew nothing about.

Again, he called my name, and my desire to appear as normal as possible won over my need to sleep forever. It took what seemed like an eternity to make my way through the house and down the stairs. Maybe I was sleeping too much. My legs didn't seem to know how to properly carry my body anymore.

"Not too long now, and leave your door open." My dad ordered, creating an instant confusion in my head. It wasn't like I was going to do anything with Rachel or Mercedes, I thought he understood that now.

I braced myself, smoothed down my disheveled shirt, and pulled the door open. My mouth popped open in surprise- this was definitely _not_ miss Rachel Berry- and I took two steps backwards before launching myself at the brilliantly smiling Blaine who was radiating on my doorstep, and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. To my surprise, I found myself in his embrace also. My dad's words made perfect sense now.

"You're going to squeeze me to death!" Blaine's words came muffled through my shoulder, but he was laughing and didn't loosen his grip on me. It took reminding myself that friends didn't necessarily hug for so long to force myself to let go and welcome him inside.

"Do you... living room or...?" My mouth wasn't working properly, and I had to look like a complete moron, waving my hands around and motioning to nothing. He laughed; A warm, friendly sound I'd been missing terribly since I left him at Dalton. Guilt crept into my thoughts and the fleeting moments of happiness I'd been experiencing easily slipped away, leaving me hollow once more.

"Can we go to your room?" I nodded and led him up the stairs, past the embarrassing pictures of me when I was the size of a whale, when my hair wasn't always perfectly styled, when the smile on my face was real. Blaine went in first and I followed, minding my dad's words and shoving a doorstop under the door to keep it from closing. My attention turned back to Blaine, who was rolling back and forth on his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes skimming across my possessions. My eyebrow raised involuntarily in question, and I now worried that maybe he was here to tell me he never wanted to see me again, that he hated me, that I was a horrible awful person.

"...It's very clean..." He was right, of course. I'd been cleaning constantly, almost manically, every day. No matter what I did, how hard I cleaned, or how much I threw away, it never seemed to be enough.

"Spring cleaning." I muttered, motioning for Blaine to sit. He took the stool at my vanity and perched on it, looking extremely uncomfortable. I leaned against the bookshelf by my window and looked at him expectantly.

"Look...Kurt. I'm sorry if I offended you or something with that song, you looked so upset when you left, and I just came to apologize and-"

"What are you talking about?" I was genuinely confused.

"Today, when I auditioned for your Glee Club. You left so fast that I thought maybe I did something that upset you, and I wanted to say I'm really, really sorry." He looked so sincere, so desperate to make up for something he didn't even do. Guilt welled up inside me again, more than just for leaving him at Dalton; Now he thought I was mad at him for singing beautifully and wonderfully and the more I thought about it, the more awful I felt.

"Blaine, stop. You were fantastic, your song was fantastic, and no, you didn't offend me at all." I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying any more. My words sounded forced, unpolished. Maybe I should have made an effort to speak more. I couldn't seem to carry on a conversation without sounding like an idiot.

"Then why did you leave?" It was difficult to watch him, so earnest, so open. I turned to face the window and let my forehead press against it, the cool glass helping me gain control of myself long enough to speak, even though I didn't want to. But I felt like I owed him an explanation. I'd been awful to him for so long, and he didn't deserve that.

"I guess... I just. It's just..." I paused for a moment to contain myself, "Blaine, I feel really bad for just leaving you at Dalton, I should have told you I was leaving, and I shouldn't have ignored all of your calls and texts but every time I got one it made me want to turn around and run back! And I couldn't do that! So when I saw you today and you were singing that song and just... being there, it was just..."

"Too much?"

"Yeah." A silence hung in the air, neither of us moving. I felt pathetic. Frustrated, I rubbed my hands over my face, and seconds later found myself wrapped in his arms once more. I had to keep reminding myself we were friends, that I shouldn't hug him for too long, because that's not what friends do. But all I wanted was to never let go. He smelled so good, felt so solid beneath my gross, soft body.

"I'm not mad at you okay? So you don't need to be mad at yourself. I just missed you, a lot, and Dalton wasn't right for me after you left." He swayed back and forth on his feet, pulling me with him. I had missed it, his inability to stay still. "It took a lot of convincing but my mom _finally_ agreed to let me go to McKinley with you." I smiled into his shirt. Blaine, at school with me again. Maybe I could actually do it. Maybe I could actually make it through the rest of the school year without destroying myself.

"Well, I'm glad she did, because I've missed you too." Finally, I sounded like a normal person. He smiled at me and let go, before pulling off his shoes and plopping on my bed. He patted the space next to him, as if I was the visitor and this was his room. I smiled, a real, actual smile, something I hadn't done in what seemed like forever, and sat next to him.

For the next couple hours, Blaine and I watched TV and talked until my throat was sore. It was nice, so, so nice, to finally be with someone who was on the same page as me, who had similar interests, who I felt comfortable with even if we were both silent and staring at the television screen. At times, the space between us felt like centimeters to me, and then it felt like miles. I couldn't get close enough to him, and I was so frightened that he'd leave and never come back, or that this was all some sick hallucination my brain was creating.

At some point, Carole came in with a bowl of popcorn and some drinks. I hoped highly that Blaine would be super interested in the popcorn so that I wouldn't have to eat any, and to my relief he was, although I'd never seen a person eat it piece by piece before. Maybe I was just too used to Finn shoveling food down his throat.

I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, laughing at the ridiculousness of certain shows, talking more about the Warblers and what I'd missed when I left, but after a while my eyes started sliding shut against my will. As hard as I tried, I couldn't stay awake, and found myself stretched out next to Blaine, my head resting against his side. I couldn't remember feeling more comfortable, and thought maybe he should come over more often, at least just so I could relax occasionally. Defeated by drowsiness, I let myself fall asleep hoping that, for once, I wouldn't scream myself awake.


	9. Chapter 9

**Blaine's Point of View:**

Today is just the best day ever. I'm at Kurt's, and he's not mad at me, and we're watching awesome shows- no, he's sleeping and I'm watching TV- and it's just the best. Considering I thought he hated me earlier this is the best outcome, better than I could have even hoped. Happily I sigh and run my fingers through the ends of his soft hair. After he fell asleep, much to my delight, he rolled over and decided to use me as a pillow, and I'm taking mental pictures so I can remember this later. I check my watch once more and yes, it's ten now, and I have to leave so I can get home in time to help my grandma get her rollers in.

Carefully, I slide out from under Kurt, replacing myself with a pillow. I watch him for a moment, amazed at how serene he looks while sleeping. Earlier he looked so distressed that I could barely handle it, and I can tell he's lost weight, but not in a good way. I frown. He looks sick.

I touch his hair once more- so soft, the exact opposite of mine- and creep over to my shoes and slide them on before closing his door with a soft click. Instantly his dad is there, as if the sound of a closing bedroom door initiated teleportation-dad mode. He relaxes as soon as he realizes I'm leaving, and claps me on the shoulder when I pass him.

"Kurt sure seemed happy to see you." He says, as he stares at me pointedly. I sense another meaning to his words, and nod quickly.

"I'll be back tomorrow?"

"See you then, bud." Burt closes the front door behind me, though I'm frozen by the name he's called me. Bud? But I'm Blaine!

I shrug and stride to my car, excited to tell my grandma everything that happened today. I hope she's already turned her curlers on though, otherwise it's going to be a very long night.

* * *

**Kurt's Point of View:**

My eyes slid open before quickly closing. Happily I sighed, remembering that Blaine was over, and slid my fingers across my bedding to find him. Again. And again. My eyes flew open now, and I pulled the covers up, as if he was somehow hiding underneath them.

"Blaine?" I croaked. No answer. I sat up, looking around my room. Maybe he hadn't heard me, and he was in the bathroom.

"Blaine?!" I called, waiting for a response. Silence thundered in my ears. This could not be happening. My pulse quickened, and I called his name out again, louder, maybe he was downstairs? Nothing. Tears sprung to my eyes and my chest grew tight, making it impossible to breathe. Again, I called his name, this time choking it out between struggling breaths and sobs and oh god, I was going to die, wasn't I? I was dying, and Blaine had never visited, and I'd imagined it all.

Carole burst into my room, saying something I couldn't understand. Now I was crazy. I was crazy and dying and-

"I... can't... breathe!" I wheezed, tears streaming down my face. My heart was still racing and I was sobbing uncontrollably. Carole flurried over to me, pulling my legs off the bed and making me sit upright next to her. One hand grabbed mine and another found its way to my back, rubbing in circles.

"Honey, just try to breathe in and out and it'll be over soon okay? You're having a panic attack, deep breaths." She continued rubbing my back and hands until my breathing slowed and I could finally take a deep breath. Eventually, the crying stopped, and Carole sat back to let me calm down further.

"Kurt honey, what's wrong?" She asked earnestly, and my crying started all over again. I was just so devastated that none of it had actually happened, and the more I thought about everything, the more hysterical I became.

"Everything! I woke up and Blaine wasn't here, but I thought he was here before I fell asleep but now he's _not_ and I imagined it all and-"

"Oh, no! He _was_ here! He just had to go home!"

"I didn't imagine it!?" Happy tears now. I was becoming ridiculous. Someone needed to give me a horse tranquilizer or seriously strong sedatives. There was no way this was normal.

"No! It just got late. He said he'd come back tomorrow- well, today, but you know what I mean." I was so stricken with relief that it took me a minute to absorb her words.

"Tomorrow is today? What?"

"It's after noon? You've been asleep for almost, oh, maybe sixteen hours?" My jaw dropped. _I'd slept through the night. _That hadn't happened in... forever.

"That _would_ explain my extreme need to pee." Carole laughed and hugged me before double checking to make sure I was feeling alright, and then left me so I could 'freshen up'.

* * *

I laughed at myself when I looked in the mirror. Creases from my sheets still littered my face, and my hair was sticking up at all odd sorts of angles, as if I'd been electrocuted while I slept. I peeled my day old clothes off and hopped in the shower, turning the temperature up so I could wash the sleep and tears from my eyes, the stiffness from my limbs. And then I saw my arm. And I remembered, that's right, I did that, that it's not all rainbows and happy time. And just like that, my good mood crashed around me.

In the time before Blaine was supposed to come over, I'd showered, cleaned my room, and napped. This time, I wanted to _not_ fall asleep while he was over, so I could avoid what happened this morning. It was hard enough to hide everything when I acted normal; I didn't need the added suspicion from panic attacks or whatever the hell that was. It felt more like dying to me.

I paced my room while waiting for him to arrive, repositioning picture frames and knick-knacks to keep my fingers busy. The burning desire to rip through my skin was almost irresistible. Deep breaths. I couldn't do anything now, not when Blaine should be here soon. My fingers gripped the edge of my desk, begging for my scissors, for the ability to drag the blade across my arms and forget the aching inside. I pushed away and staggered backwards onto my bed, pounding my fists against my thighs, chest heaving from the effort. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do for now. My knuckles protested, screaming against the impact, and it took all I had to stop when the doorbell chimed.

Deep breaths. I tucked my shirt back in and smoothed my hair on the way across my room, opening my door just as Blaine reached the landing. Deep breaths. But it wasn't working.

"I brought movies!" He waved a few DVD boxes around excitedly before practically bouncing into my room. "Carole let me in," he added, pulling off his cardigan and folding it over the back of my desk chair. A dark, short-sleeved shirt accented his arms magnificently. Jealousy, bold and strong, shot through me. I was so hot. It would be so nice to wear a short sleeved shirt, but because of my stupid, ridiculous inability to control myself...

I tugged my sleeves down, leaving a small gap between the door and the frame before following Blaine, forcing myself to smile.

"Well, let me see!" I said eagerly, as he spread them out for me to see. "_Really?_" I asked, stifling a laugh. He nodded, looking unsure.

"They're my favorites!" He paused, eying me. "We can watch something else if you'd like?"

"No! Any of these are great. You choose!" They really were all fine, I was just surprised at the selection; I hadn't pegged him as a 90's musical movie type of person. He offered me a small smile and popped one of the discs out of its case, sliding it into the player before climbing onto my bed. Like last time, he pat the space next to him as if it were his bed and I was the guest.

"I used to watch this all the time when I was a kid." He said, before scooting closer to me and bouncing excitedly. My stomach twisted with butterflies, and I tried to hold back a blush, hoping he couldn't tell. That was at the bottom of my list of things that needed to happen. "I wanted to be a nun because of it," Seeing the look I gave him, he added, "unfortunately, I realized that wouldn't work out because I'm gay."

The movie started while I processed that, wondering if Blaine had ever realized he couldn't be a nun because he wasn't a female, not just because he was gay. My thoughts escaped me as the movie continued, however, because I found myself absorbed in it. Why I had ever passed up watching Sister Act 2 was beyond me, and it was obvious why this was one of Blaine's favorites.

"This is the best part!" he whispered excitedly, as the choir began their performance of "Oh Happy Day". At the end of the song he clapped along with the audience in the movie as if he'd never seen it before. I smiled at him and could feel the tension leaving my body. Breathing became easier, and I felt relaxed enough to lean back comfortably against my headboard. I didn't know why he had that effect on me, why I suddenly felt like I could function when he was around. But I liked it, and I hoped it would never go away.

By the end of the movie, Blaine was cheering along with "Joyful, Joyful" and dancing along in an extremely awkward, extremely endearing, extremely... cute... way because of his sitting position.

"They won!" He exclaimed, followed by a long, drawn out "Yaaay!"

"Oof!" I wasn't sure what kind of noise _that_ was, but it escaped my lips when Blaine's arms crashed around me in a celebratory hug.

_ It hurts so much. Hands everywhere. Gravel pressing into my exposed skin; bruises forming readily, I squeeze my eyes shut and keep struggling even though I have nowhere to go._

_'No,' _I remind myself, through the smell of Blaine's cologne and the feel of his stubble against my face, _'this is Blaine. This is Blaine.'_ I return the hug despite my awkward half-sitting-half-reclined position, chanting internally, _'Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine...'_

"Kurt?" I froze, pulling back.

"Sorry, I-" Had I been speaking out loud? I surely hoped not.

"Are you okay?" I lick my lips, debating. _Am I okay? _A joke of a question.

"I'm fine, why?" His brows furrow, and I can tell he doesn't believe me, he doesn't believe me and he's going to keep asking me and everything is going to fall apart.

"You just..." He paused, "...nevermind." I sighed, almost audibly, and we went back to our relaxed positions on my bed. Seconds passed in silence as I searched for something to say, but my words kept catching in my throat and all I could think about was cutting, getting rid of this awful, trapped feeling.

"Does your dad know my name?" Blaine finally asked, staring at the blank screen on the television. What kind of question was that?

"Of _course_ he does, why wouldn't he?" I felt like this was some sort of weird distraction, a made up question to relieve the tension. One look at Blaine though, and I could see he was being completely sincere. His mouth was even pulled into a slight frown, and my expression fell to match his.

"He called me 'Bud'? I mean, I- why are you _laughing_ at me?" I couldn't help it. The ridiculousness was too much, and I had to press my hands against my face to calm down enough to answer.

"Blaine, seriously? It's like a term of endearment. You know? Kiddo, Bud, Honey- things like that?" He shook his head, still confused. Exasperated, I continued. "Kind of like a pet name? It means he likes you, it's a good thing..." And before thinking, I blurted, "Didn't your parents ever call you anything like that?"

"_Oh_," he mumbled, swallowing. And instantly I felt terrible for laughing. My eyes prickled and I looked away from him to keep myself composed. Deep breaths. "No," he continued, "not really."

I searched for something to say, anything, to make him feel better, to take back what I'd done, but the words don't appear. Instead, I stare at him, hoping he'll speak again. He does, but this time it isn't what I wanted to hear.

"Maybe I should go," He chokes out, standing and starting to gather his things.

"No, wait Blaine, I'm sorry, I-" I reach after him, catching his shirt, but he pulls away.

"I have to get home anyway, I'll see you later." The coolness in his voice is evident, and with record speed his cardigan is on and he's leaving.

He looks back at me like he's about to change his mind, but the expression is gone almost instantly, and so is he. Again, I'm alone. And it hurts. Because just like every other time, it's my fault something went wrong. My fault I couldn't stop myself from hurting someone else.

Suffocating waves of guilt smother me until I can't breathe, can't think.

I close my door and stumble across my room. I know exactly how to make myself feel better.

* * *

**Blaine's Point of View:**

_I'm an idiot._

* * *

**...**

**Okay yaay! This was definitely a much quicker update than I usually make. I'm already working on the next chapter, so hopefully it'll be up soon. If I missed anything, please tell me! I was half asleep while double checking everything, so I don't doubt something slipped by.**

**Thanks to all the people who've left reviews/comments! I love love love them! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey look, another update! Yay! I will warn ahead of time that there's drug use near the end of the chapter. Also, this one's quite a bit longer than usual (like 3800 words instead of 2500) because I guess I just got really into it? Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, I really appreciate it! I'm already working on the next chapter so hopefully it'll be up soon! =D**

* * *

**Blaine's Point of View:**

I awake in the morning to the screeching beep of my alarm clock. In an attempt to shut it off quickly I nearly throw myself off my bed, completely missing the button. '_Oh well',_ I figure, untangling myself from my burrito of blankets and sheets, '_I'm up now.'_

"Blaine?" I hear my name called from the kitchen mid-gel. Luckily I dressed first, so I dash from my room to see what my grandma needs. She's seated at her usual chair at the table, trying to reach her glasses- which seem to have fallen to the floor- and failing miserably. With haste I pick them up for her, my heart thundering in my ears. Every time she calls my name, I'm terrified of what I'll find. A frown crosses my face, and I shake those thoughts away. Nearly nothing bad has happened yet, thankfully.

"Now how'd that happen?" I ask her, pouring some coffee into her cup. Crossing her arms at me, she says, "I was quite into my puzzle, and you know how I get when I can't figure out the answers." I stare at her for a moment before we both start laughing. Of course.

I pull the paper towards me and start filling in the answers she doesn't know. After multiple summers spent doing this, I've gotten reasonably good. My grandma takes a long drink of coffee and then turns to me, starting intently.

"...What?" I ask distractedly. Only a few more answers to go!

"Are you going to tell me now why you came home in such a hurry last night?" Setting the pen down on the table, I sigh. Last night I was such a mess that I did her rollers completely wrong and had to redo them- twice.

"It's just..." She pulls the paper back towards her and smiles when she sees only a few spaces are blank. I swallow the lump forming in my throat and continue, "... We were having fun, you know? We watched Sister Act, and I guess I got caught up in the moment, but then Kurt started acting really strange so I tried to change the subject to something I'd been meaning to ask him all night because I was seriously confused. And then he _laughed_ at me. Laughed! I felt so dumb! So then I left, and now I really regret it because I made a fool out of myself and then made a big deal out of it. But I was really upset!" She waits patiently for me to finish. "I'm just worried he's mad at me now-"

"Again?"

"-yes, again, and I feel bad because I think I upset him and he already looks so sad. I guess I'm just really mad at myself. I feel like a big huge idiot." My voice has gone to that squeaky place it always goes when I'm trying hard not to cry. Covering my hands with hers, my grandma smiles.

"Well, if he laughed at you I doubt he's mad at you. I know it hurts when someone does that, but at least he didn't yell, right?" I nod. "And I'm sure you didn't make a fool out of yourself, so stop being mad with yourself. You did nothing wrong, alright?" Again, I nod. "Okay then. Why don't you just talk to him about it? I'm sure he'll understand, and if he doesn't, that's also okay. Now, I know just the thing to make you feel better!" She smiles at me, patting my hands before she lets go. Instantly I know what she's up to.

"But I'll be late!" I plead, standing and gathering my school books into my bag. It's bad enough I barely had time to get ready.

"Oh Blaine, just one song before you go?" Using her sneaky grandma charm, she manages to convince me- not that it was too hard. I search through a few of the heavily used CD's she has by the radio on the counter. While I search through the songs on the back of a case, she nearly shouts, "Number fifteen!" I smile and pop the CD in, skipping to that song. As per usual, that's what I was going to choose anyway. She knows me way too well for my own good.

I start dancing to the music, waiting for the words to start, feeling my body move along with the beat.

_"I'll keep working my way back to you, babe_

_ With a burning love inside_

_ Hey, I'm working my way back to you, babe_

_ And the happiness that died..."_

My grandma claps along with her knobbly hands, swaying in time with the song.

_"See, I'm down and out_

_ But I ain't about to go living my life without you_

_ Hey, every day_

_ I made you cry_

_ I'll pay and, boy_

_ 'Til the day I die..."_

I feel my shoulders loosening up, my mood lifting. My grandma is the smartest woman in the entire world. Still in her seat, she gestures for me to dance along with her moves. Before her arthritis got too bad, she was a fantastic dancer. I laugh at what she wants me to do which causes me to stumble over some words, but I continue anyway.

_"Whoa, I'm really sorry for acting that __way_

_ I'm really sorry_

_ Ooh, little boy_

_ I'm really sorry for telling you lies_

_ For so long_

_ Oh, please, forgive me, boy_

_ Come on (give me a chance)_

_ Won't you forgive me, boy_

_ Hey (let's have romance)_

_ Ooh, forgive me, boy (let's try again)_

_ Come on, forgive me, boy_

_ I want you over and over_

_ And over and over again..."_

I'm definitely going to be late now, and sweaty on top of it, but I hardly care. This was the perfect song choice. The only thing that would have made it better was if I were singing it to Kurt instead of my 80 year old grandma, but since it's a bit too late for that, I don't mind very much.

_"I'll keep working my way back to you, babe_

_ With a burning love inside_

_ Yeah, I'm working my way back to you, babe_

_ And the happiness that died_

_ I let it get away_

_ Do-do, do-da, do_

_ (Been paying every day)_

_ Do-do, do-da, do_

_ I'll keep working my way back to you, babe..."_

I continue singing and dancing along until the music fades, holding my pose while my grandma claps enthusiastically. Grinning, I bow, catching my breath.

"That was just lovely," She says, motioning for me to come to her so she can give me a kiss on the cheek, "Better than the original!" I smile -still panting slightly- and thank her. What a huge compliment!

After a glance at my watch I hurry to grab the rest of my things, tell Grandma goodbye (and to call me if she needs anything at all) and start to leave.

"Oh, before I forget," I pause at the door and wait for her to finish, "you could use just a bit more product, okay? Don't want your hair to get too unruly now. Have a nice day at school." Thinking back to the sloppy half-gel job I was barely able to fit in when I woke up, I nod and cross the lawn to my car. There's a reason I always keep some emergency gel in my glove-box! My grandma always knows how to make me feel better.

* * *

**Kurt's Point of View**

"Hey," I jumped slightly when Blaine's voice sounded in my ear, "Sorry for leaving so fast last night." Quite frankly, I was surprised he was even talking to me, what with how big of a gigantic asshole I had been last night. He should hate me. I know I did.

"No, it's okay, sorry for being such a jerk." I added a smile at the end, hoping it covered the melancholy in my voice. We walked together awkwardly for a while before he spoke.

"...You weren't a jerk. I was a jerk for just leaving like that." I frown, pushing my hands into my pockets.

"Maybe we were both jerks?" Blaine suggested.

"...Maybe." I agreed. He nudged me lightly with his elbow before we entered Glee Club, and we both sat in the back near Quinn, who smiled and waved at me. Unease rose in my stomach. Was she smiling because she was happy to see me, or because someone told her to be nice? I waved back, then turned to see what Mr. Schue had planned for us today.

"Okay guys, I've thought about it a lot this week, and the theme for next week is..." He turned to write dramatically on the white board, "Disney!"

There were collective groans along with shouts of joy. I made no noise. Instead, I chewed on the piece of skin starting to detach itself from my thumb. _Disney_. Are you fucking kidding me?

"I want you all to pick a song and make it _you_. So, this weekend I'd like you guys to think about which song you'd like to sing. Monday, we'll pull straws to see who goes first."

"Mr. Schue, I thought we agreed last time you were going to get pre-pulled straws!" Brittany complained.

"Okay Brittany, why don't we all just pick the order from a hat-"

"Is the duck going to actually be in the hat this time?" She questioned.

"-you know, maybe I'll just pick the order at random"

After that, he let us go off on our own to look through lists containing hundreds of Disney songs. How was I supposed to decide on a song, a happy, cheery _Disney _song, when I felt so... ugh? I sat through the rest of Glee Club in complete silence, pretending to look over the list. Blaine wiggled around in his seat excitedly, highlighting multiple songs per page and chatting animatedly with Mike about setting up a dance routine. At least he was excited about it; Maybe that could give me a distraction from how terrible I was going to do on this assignment.

* * *

Later that night, while I attempted to catch up on my homework (but all I succeeded in doing was chewing my fingernails to stubs) Carole poked her head in my room, looking extremely exasperated.

"Hey, Finn's over at Puck's, but Puck gave Finn a ride, and apparently Puck's mom borrowed his car- even though I don't really believe that- so now Finn has no way to get home. I'm really late for my shift at the hospital, so-"

"Of course, Carole. When do you want me to pick him up?" She smiled at me as she readjusted her scrubs and double checked to make sure she had her I.D. badge.

"Nine or ten maybe? At least that's when Finn said he'd be ready, so. Thank you so much honey! I'll see you later!" With that, she bustled out.

Giving up on my homework, I shoved my books to the other side of my bed and checked the time. Eight-thirty. If I took my time putting presentable clothes back on (even though I was excruciatingly comfortable in my pajamas) I could be at Puck's by nine-thirty at the latest, and get home before ten so I could spend the rest of the night sleeping. It sounded like a fantastic plan to me.

It took ten minutes for anyone to answer the door when I finally got to Puck's house.

Puck ushered me inside, telling me he and Finn were in the middle of a game, and did I mind hanging out until they finished? By then it was a quarter till ten, and my whole go-to-sleep-forever plan was completely ruined so I figured, why not? I followed him down the creaky basement stairs and through some sheets he'd hung from the ceiling to create a makeshift room, and sat on the empty threadbare love seat squished between two armchairs in the same shabby state.

I squinted through the weird haze in the room, rubbing my nose to dispel what I had mistaken at first as basement smell. Puck brought what definitely was not a half-smoked cigarette to his lips and took a drag. I felt heat rise to my face, and I wasn't sure if I was angry or irritated or embarrassed. What had I gotten myself into?

"You're smoking _pot_?"

"Yeah, why else do you think Finn needed a ride home? Your parent's would totally know he's high."

"So why couldn't you take him home?"

"Dude, I don't even have a car." Puck passed the joint to Finn, who smiled apologetically at me before taking a hit and stubbing it out in a well-used ashtray. I wondered how the hell Finn had gotten to Puck's in the first place then, since Carole had been under the impression that Puck picked him up.

"So I had to come pick you up because you're high?"

"I'm sorry Kurt! I couldn't let my mom know though, she'd kill you!"

"Me?"

"You what?"

"You said she'd kill _me._"

"Oh my god, who's going to kill you?" I threw my hands up, frustrated with my airhead step-brother. I got that he was high, but didn't he have anything left in that big head of his?

"He's been like this all night, trust me, this isn't even bad compared to how he was earlier." Puck said, turning his attention away from the television and Xbox for a minute. "You'd think that since this isn't his first time he'd have just a little bit more self control!" He added, shooting Finn an irritated glance before killing many, many zombies without even bothering to look at the screen.

I pulled my legs up onto the couch, trying to get comfortable. For what seemed like forever, I toyed with my phone, contemplating texting Blaine. No, I decided. That would be too weird.

"...Kurt?" I snap my head up, realizing they'd been talking to me and I hadn't even noticed. Oops. I also saw they were smoking again.

"What?"

"I asked if you wanted any?" I paused, confused.

"...Pot?"

"Yeah. No pressure dude, just being polite." For a minute I thought about it. All throughout school it was drilled into my head that drugs were an awful thing, yet here they were, doing drugs, and it was totally, completely chill; The complete opposite of many people I'd been around who were drunk. Puck made to pass the joint to Finn, and that's when I made my decision.

"Why not." This time it was he who looked clueless. Eying me with surprise, he looked to Finn- who just shrugged- as if asking for permission, and then shrugged himself.

"If you're sure?" I nod again, and then realize I have absolutely no fucking clue what I'm doing. Luckily Puck comes to the rescue. "Okay, grab it here with your two fingers- no, not there, you'll burn yourself- yeah, there," Now that I was holding it, I felt strange. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this? What if I got caught? And then something in my head just stopped worrying about that. Who the fuck cared? "And now you just like... suck on it... like you're smoking a cigarette?" Puck says. I watch him struggle with himself to keep the innuendos to a bare minimum. And it would be totally funny except I'd never smoked before. I shake my head at him.

"I don't really... I've never smoked before?" I said, and I felt kind of foolish. Only a little. Because I was trying that whole not-caring thing.

"... Alright. Put your lips around it so you suck through it, and like, pull the smoke in." I stared at him, and he motioned for me to do it right then. So I tried, and was it supposed to taste that bad? Puck laughed at me so I glared at him. "No dude, the smoke doesn't just go into your mouth, like, pull it into your lungs like you're smelling something really fucking good, only through your mouth!" He cheered to himself, apparently extremely satisfied with his description of how to smoke. I frowned slightly. _I was doing drugs_.

I tried again, this time following his orders and pulling the smoke into my lungs. Immediately, I felt the difference. My eyes watered against the burn in the back of my throat and bottom of my lungs, and I struggled to not cough. I heard Puck say something along the lines of "Woo!" before adding "Don't exhale, but pass it to Finn so it doesn't go out."

Again, I did as he said. We continued like that for a while, and each time I wished I had something to drink. I noticed neither of them were drinking anything and wondered if the more you smoked it, the less not-so-good it felt. Eventually, I had to ask for something, because it felt like my throat was on fire.

"I don't mean to be rude, but could I have some water or...?" I asked, tugging on the skin around my fingernails.

"Oh dude, sorry! I have some..." He opened a cooler on the other side of his chair- how I had missed that was a complete mystery to me- and dug around in it. "... Orange pop. Here ya go." He tossed a can to me. Orange pop? I twisted it in my hands, glancing over the nutritional info. One hundred and thirty calories for one pop. Really? But the burning in my throat was too much to handle, so I popped the tab and drank thirstily.

"Do you feel anything yet?" Finn eventually asked, and after thinking about it for a minute, I responded with a short, "No." He made an exaggerated sad face at me, then giggled to himself.

And then I realized, that wasn't completely true. I felt kind of strange, and the longer I thought about it, the more it intensified, until:

"_Oh my god, I'm vibrating!_" I choked out around the edge of my pop can. And that wasn't completely true either. It felt like my skin was vibrating, like I was being rubbed all over by an extremely fuzzy, extremely comfortable blanket. And then I was hot. So hot that my shoes and socks came off without me really noticing it, and I was so glad I didn't wear a long sleeved shirt under my button-up, and I realized it was a really good thing we were in a cool basement.

"Well he sure feels something now! That's cool though, a lot of people don't really feel anything their first time." Puck commented. Was that supposed to be dirty? I didn't know. But he was right, I did feel something, and for once it wasn't an awful, dark, consuming feeling. I was vibrating and floating and laughing at the same time and it just felt amazing. I pushed myself further onto the couch, really relaxing for the first time in ages. I felt like a butterfly in a cocoon. A nice, safe, fantastic feeling cocoon.

Puck rolled another joint and soon we were passing it between us again, and this time there was more of a rhythm, a method, instead of an 'oh god what am I doing?' I din't know how long we stayed like that, smoking while I watched them kill zombies, but suddenly I sat up and rubbed my hands against the fabric of the couch. It took me a minute to figure out what was bothering me- my brain wasn't working quite as fast as usual, and now I understood why Finn seemed like such an idiot earlier- and then it hit me. The bothersome pinching feeling in my stomach that usually accompanied my lack of food was now a huge angry lion; There was a lion inside me and it was going to eat me if I didn't eat something first.

"Whoa, was that your stomach?" Finn asked, leaning towards me incredibly slowly. I stifled my laughter. Was it my stomach? Was I really hungry? Maybe.

"Well it better be, because I have foooooood!" Puck announced as he reentered the room. He left? Where had I been? But I didn't really care right then, because he started passing out huge bowls of Finn-sized portions of mac and cheese. For just a moment, one tiny millisecond, that voice sounded in the back of my head.

_ 'Don't eat that, Kurt. You'll just get even fatter!'_ I blinked down at my bowl, and then ate like I'd never had anything to eat in my entire life. I couldn't tell if I was really hungry because of the pot or because I really hadn't eaten very much lately, but the food tasted freaking amazing and that was all that really mattered. Puck also produced a plate of chicken nuggets, and I managed to grab a couple before Finn used his bear hands to scoop up a large majority of them.

I thought I might explode. After going so long without eating, my stomach had obviously shrunk and it was really difficult to eat as much as I wanted to. Paired with the sudden lack of feeling awful, everything was becoming extremely overwhelming. Somehow I managed to slow down on eating and took breaks without Finn shoveling any of my food into his mouth, successfully finishing my extremely late-night dinner. And I felt fantastic.

And then I was incredibly bored.

And then I had the best idea ever.

"OhmygodPuckletmepaintyournai ls" I demanded while digging in my pockets for the bottle of polish I almost always carried with me.

"Dude, why do you have nail polish? And _no_, you can't paint my nails. I have to try and keep at least _some_ of my dignity."

"Well, when you're friends with Rachel Berry, you have to be prepared for the unexpected. Come onnnnn, just a couple fingers?" I pouted at him, using every persuasive muscle in my body to let me paint his nails, because... no, I forgot why, but that didn't matter. A few more minutes of pouting and-

"Okay, _fine_- but only a few nails, and you have to take it off before you leave!" He said, setting his controller down and holding his hands out like he'd been in this position before. I wondered if it was because of his sister, but then I didn't really care to know. I let out what was supposed to be a cheer but ended up sounding more like a battle cry, before shakily applying polish to his fingers. For some reason I'd had it in my mind that it would be an easy task- what the hell was I thinking- but somehow I managed to coat his nails in a nice charcoal gray without getting too much on his skin.

"I said only a few nails!" He complained as I recapped the bottle and slid it back into my pocket.

"_So?_" I challenged.

And then I fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

"C'mon man, help me out a little!" Finn grumbled as he helped me down the hall.

"I told you I didn't want to wake up yet! Couldn't we have stayed at Puck's?" I complained sleepily, sagging against him. It was late and we were probably going to get it tomorrow for being out so far past curfew, but what did I care? My top priority was getting back in bed so I could sleep. "Can't you go any faster?"

"Not when I'm practically carrying you!" Finally having reached my room, Finn gave me a light shove and I landed face-down on my bed with a small "Oomph." Behind me, Finn called goodnight and shut my door behind him, and I shut my eyes and finally fell back asleep.

* * *

"You know, when I woke you up on Saturday you hadn't moved at all from when I dropped you?" Finn asked while we made our way to our lockers. The news didn't surprise me. I'd slept for so long my back was stiff the entire weekend, and not even another pot smoking session Saturday night at Puck's had helped. At least then we just spent the night, saving Finn from carrying my half asleep ass through the house.

"At least my dad and Carole didn't say anything about the sonic booms your feet made when they were stomping around your room. Seriously, you've got to do something about that." I opened my bag, searching inside to see which books I needed for today. In reality I was just busying myself until I could find Blaine. All weekend I had waited to hear from him, and all weekend my phone was silent.

"Yeah, I thought it was kind of weird we didn't get in trouble. Speaking of weird..." Together, we watched Puck approach, a grimace attached firmly to his face.

"Puck, it's like 70 outside, why are you wearing mittens?" I asked, pulling my books out of my locker.

"You never did take his nail polish off." Finn pointed out, suppressing a laugh.

"I never... what? Nail polish?" Stilling my fingers, I took another look at Puck's gloved hands. I searched my head for any memory of painting his nails and came up empty. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he pulled off a mitten and shoved his hand in my face. "I don't know how to get rid of this crap besides using pliers to rip off my fingernails." Charcoal Grey- Rachel's color? And suddenly I _did_ remember- the memory but a fuzzy little snippet- painting his nails. I cringed and wondered how many other ridiculous things I'd done at Puck's over the weekend and already forgotten.

"Go find Rachel, she has nail polish remover in her locker, she'll help you." I sighed, closing my bag and locker with haste. This was so embarrassing. My fingers tugged at my sleeves involuntarily, and I tried pushing those thoughts aside. How many times did I have to make a fool out of myself before I could die of embarrassment? Santana and Brittany stalked up, and I used that as my cue to leave.

"Nice to see you're finally wearing a glove, Puckerman." I heard Santana remark as I walked away.

"I chopped all my fingers off during wood shop and I don't want to scare off any hot chicks with the gore! God!"

* * *

I didn't see Blaine until lunch. It was by chance that I'd actually gone, since the past week's "meals" had taken place in the bathroom. He caught me walking down the hall on my way too my bathroom of choice and looped an arm through mine, pulling me towards the cafeteria and into the lunch line.

"I missed you this morning," Glancing down the line to see what today's options were, my stomach clenched. I was so hungry, so much so that it was difficult to ignore, but as hard as I tried to not listen to the voice in my head that chanted 'fat' over and over again, I couldn't.

"Oh you did, did you?" Was he _flirting_? We grabbed our trays, moving up in the queue. Nervously I chewed my lip, watching menu items slop onto plates. Gross. So gross.

"You know what I mean." I chided. Now it was our turn, and our conversation halted. Choice after choice I denied, waiting to be offered something that wouldn't make me gain even more weight overnight. From the corner of my eye I saw Blaine shoot me a worried glance, and I said yes to what I was being offered, hoping to deflect any suspicion. It was then that I decided I should be more careful around him. He was much more observant than Finn.

I managed to find two seats next to each other at the end of the Glee Club's usual table while Blaine picked up some napkins from the condiment stand. While the everyone laughed at Puck- who was trying and failing to eat lunch with his mitten clad hands- I stared down at my tray and wondered how the fuck I was going to do this. Of all the things I had to say yes to, spaghetti? Because I totally needed to shove carbs down my already-too-fat throat. I took my time swirling my straw around in my drink. Tomorrow I'd have to find a way to sneak to the bathroom without Blaine catching me.

"Anyway, before we were interrupted, I was going to say I was late. My grandma likes me to help her finish her puzzles, and I actually ended up having to Google the answer so I could come to class." He laughed, sliding in between Mike and I. The press of his body against mine sent heat to my cheeks, quickened my pulse. I scolded myself for being so doofy and mimicked his actions of unwrapping my fork and eating.

"At least you finished it," I said, waiting for my stomach to stop clenching. Sometimes it was hard to decide which hurt worse- not eating, or eating after not eating for a long time. Why hadn't I payed attention and chosen something less atrocious? "I don't think I've ever finished one. For some reason, I'm terrible at them."

He smiled at me, a simple gesture that made me feel a whole lot less terrible. Even if it was only for half an hour, I was glad I had some company other than myself.

"Do you know what you want to sing this week?" He asked, and upon seeing my confusion, added, "You know, for 'Disney week'?" I shook my head in response- I hadn't even considered what I might sing- and then asked him the same.

"I'm stuck between two right now, it's so hard to decide!" His enthusiasm was catching. For the rest of lunch we continued our light talk, with me shoving my food around and occasionally taking a bite so as to not raise suspicion. For once I was actually disappointed when lunch ended, realizing it meant parting with Blaine until Glee; losing the anchoring effect his body seemed to have when it was pressed against me.

* * *

"Okay, now, you'll all pull straws and whoever gets the short one has to go today." Mr. Schue announced. A collective groan sounded from the room, a shuffle as we all stood to pull our straws. It seemed like a lot of effort for something so silly. I crossed my fingers that I wouldn't have to go since I had nothing prepared and, to my luck and probably everyone else's, Miss Rachel Berry was first to go. She squealed in delight, rushing around to get everything ready for her performance.

I stepped back to my seat and spent the entire time examining Blaine's cardigan and my shredded cuticles.

* * *

It was Thursday night and I hadn't heard from Blaine since Glee on Monday, which to me didn't even count since Rachel spent forty-five minutes belting out the Disney medley she'd prepared. I loved her, but not enough to put up with that.

I dragged myself down Puck's basement stairs and into his makeshift living room. Not seeing Blaine since Monday was almost worse than not seeing him between the time that I came back to McKinley and he transferred from Dalton. I'd become used to seeing him, even if it only was for a short while. Being without him at school was hell. My only refuge was the blade I now carried in my pocket at all times, and the pot Puck so freely dispensed in his basement.

Again I checked my phone while giving Puck a weak wave for a greeting. Finn was already in his usual spot, failing at rolling a joint due to his overly large and clumsy fingers. While he continued doing nothing but getting pot all over the place, Puck produced a stack of VHS tapes from the corner of the room, blowing a thick layer of dust off the topmost box.

"Let the marathon begin!" He proclaimed, inserting a tape into the VCR with a little more energy than was necessary. We sat silently, watching the Disney logo fade in and out. With Finn still concentrating on his task and Puck wholly absorbed with the television screen, a comfortable silence blanketed the room.

"So were those your sister's tapes?" I asked eventually, during a break in the dialogue. Puck's head snapped around quickly, and he answered with a loud, "No bro, these were _mine_. You got a problem with that?" I shook my head in hasty response, and he continued, muttering to himself, "I freaking love Disney."

The night progressed in much the same manner; I was as cloudy as the room by the time The Little Mermaid made its way on screen. Puck stared teary eyed at the screen while Ariel sang, and I found myself nearly shouting, "I'm gonna sing that tomorrow!" while pointing excitedly at the unfolding scene. It was going to be great, I knew it. My biggest hope was that Blaine would finally be there to see me sing. And that Mr. Shue wouldn't get on me for skipping four times in one week. And that Rachel wouldn't try to-

"Oh my god! My mom's calling! Ohmygod what do I do?" Finn shot out of his seat, fumbling wildly with his phone. "What if she smells the pot? Ohmygod, she's going to KILL me!"

"Shut up you doofus, she can't smell through the phone!" My words felt thick and inarticulate on my tongue. Fuck, was I high. I tried shifting positions, hoping it would clear my head. "Just answer it!"

Puck pressed talk and shoved the phone against Finn's face, motioning for him to act like a normal, not completely stoned teenager. I watched Finn's face pale, though he managed to keep up his end of the conversation fairly well. Lucky for him, he wasn't too bright to begin with.

After a few minutes he snapped the phone shut, his body sagging against his chair. "Friday night dinner is now tonight night dinner. They want us to meet them at Breadstix in an hour."

My mouth gaped and I now understood why he paled so quickly while talking to Carole. _We were fucked._

* * *

An hour and fifteen minutes later and we were stumbling over our feet into Breadstix. After the call, Puck gave us a quick lesson in sober-up-right-fucking-now. Thankfully he had eye drops handy, along with Febreeze for our clothes, but not much else could be done. I seemed to have a better grip on myself than Finn did, but then again I had smoked less. Puck had done his best to prepare us for what I considered the apocalypse, and I was hoping that maybe our parents would be less observant than usual.

Eventually we found where our parents were sitting and slid into the booth across from them. A quick hello later and Finn and I were hiding behind our menus and treating out dry mouth with Coke. If there was one thing I could be glad about it was that I was so hungry my stomach felt like it was turning inside out, and I had more options than my eyes could focus on to choose from for dinner. I tried to take my time ordering, thanking the obnoxiously tall menus for shielding my vibrating face from my dad. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't delay any longer and was forced to hand the menu back to our waitress, exposing my high self for all I was. Our parents started making light talk, and I only tuned in when I realized they were talking about Glee.

"So, how does Schuester expect you guys to do well in competitions if he keeps canceling Glee Club?" My dad questioned over his glass of wine. My heart thundered in my ears.

"What are you talking about? Mr. Shue's had us working overtime to get us ready!" I could have killed Finn. My next best option was stomping on his foot, and I couldn't even do that without anyone noticing. All eyes were on me, my hand frozen around my glass. I longed to be one of the beads of condensation forming on the surface, to be able to roll away and disappear.

"Kurt? You told me he was canceling Glee." This time it was Carole who was interrogating me. I stayed silent, my words stuck in my throat. Training my eyes downward, I inhaled steadily, trying to keep myself together. It wasn't really being in trouble that upset me, it was getting caught. Because if they found out about this so easily, who's to say they wouldn't find out what I'd been doing to myself? Internally I shuddered, folding my hands in my lap so I could shred the skin around my fingernails.

"Nah, he hasn't shown up. Or he leaves early." I shot Finn the most intense glare I could muster given that I felt like I was about to explode. My dad cleared his throat from across the table, shifting into police-dad mode.

"Kurt, you're grounded." I licked my lips, unable to respond. Instead I nodded, digging my fingers into my arms where the cuts and bruises were. Maybe I could slip away for five minutes, just to bring myself back into my body. "Not because you're skipping Glee- if you don't want to go, that's fine- but because you lied to me, and you lied to Carole."

I felt terrible. A sharp, sickening feeling rose in my chest. I was being an awful son, an awful person. What would my mom say about this all if she were here? And that made me feel even worse, because she wasn't here but at least I had my dad, and look, I was treating him like crap. I deserved to be run over by a bus.

"Finn, you too." My dad continued.

"...What?"

"You're grounded too. Straight home after school for the next two weeks." Seeing the protest on his face, my dad added, "Maybe that'll teach you both not to come to dinner high."

* * *

**Okay wow! It took longer than I intended for me to finish this. I got caught up in my own head for a while, and only had the motivation to write after all the Klaingst during 'The Break Up.' Hopefully I can keep up a little better and get these out faster, because I feel bad for stringing everyone along! (Also, I had intended on putting Kurt's performance in this chapter, but I'm moving it to the next one because it seems to flow better that way.)**

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who reads this, and thanks to everyone who reviews this. It really makes my day when I see people are actually interested in the stuff that spews from my head.**


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